Bad Feelings
by Nightshadetome
Summary: What if the first time Sam has a dream about the yellow eyed demon is before he goes to college? Instead of his dream being about his fiance, its about his brother dying in a hunt, because of the demon. He ignores the dreams until they come true, and Dean almost dies. Sam has to deal with the guilt of not telling Dean about the dream while also worrying about the future for himself
1. Chapter 1

Ch. 1

"What's up, Sammy?" Dean asked while throwing a flashlight to his younger brother, "You've been dragging your feet all morning."

"Nothing." Sam mumbled irritably, stowing the flashlight in his duffle bag. It had to have been the fifth time in the past day that he'd been asked what was wrong in one way or other. If it weren't for the fact that something about this hunt felt so terribly wrong he would have been jumping down his big brother's throat by now. "And it's Sam."

Sam could see out of the corner of his eye, as Dean paused in his packing to lean back against the counter of the cramped motel room they had stayed in the night before. He could feel Dean's eyes on the back of his head as he turned to put the canister of salt in the duffel next to the flashlight. He was being observed.

"The tone says it all, _Sam." _

Sam rolled his eyes at the emphasis on his name, "Really Dean," He plastered a slightly forced exasperated smile on his face and turned around to face the music. Dean stared him down, arms crossed, waiting for him to spill, "I just have a bad feeling is all."

"About the hunt?" Dean asked with a confused frown.

Again Sam had to roll his eyes, "Nah Dean, about that movie you have been talking about all week," he drawled, laying the sarcasm on thick. At his brother's annoyed glare he burst out, "Yes, of course about the hunt!"

"Dude, just because your super smart geek boy who instantly understands everything, doesn't mean anyone can understand you." Dean quipped following the 17 year old out of the tiny kitchen and to the door, after hoisting his pack onto a shoulder.

Sam ignored him having heard some variation of that particular jibe more than a few times in the past. He stepped outside on the cracked sidewalk of the Maloney Inn and into a bitter cold wind. Both the a and the l of "Maloney" had flickered out and died long ago and the sign above the grungy building looked more like Money Inn. Sam had been so tired when they had pulled up the night before, he had burst out laughing to his brother's amusement, for no other reason than that if there was one thing the motel needed it was more money.

Sam pulled his jacket closer around himself, while waiting on Dean to finish locking the door behind them. The chilly winter breeze was strong enough to brush Sam's light brown bangs off his forehead. He shivered. This was going to be one miserable hunt.

Dean threw him the keys to start the car and get it warmed up, while Dean checked them out. As he was sitting in the car, rubbing hands together to get the warmth back in them, the anxiety Sam had been feeling all week started to creep back up on him. The nerves made him a little jittery. He shook his head trying to shake the feeling. This wasn't a good time to get cold feet. Figuratively and literally, but there wasn't much he could do about the weather. He ended up watching a couples spat from room 112 as their argument brought them outdoors. The short stick thin woman, who looked to be in her 30s, with brown hair that nearly reached her feet stormed out with a backpack slung over only one shoulder. It was only half zipped up, and in her angered haste, a pair of underwear and a bottle of something fell out of the main pocket.

Sam watched as she shouted something into the opened doorway, before cursing and picking up her stuff. Sam leaned his head against the cold window, eyes starting to droop, as he watched the fight play out. The woman stomped over to a busted up dark blue Saturn with chipped paint and a donut on the front right wheel. Suddenly a tall slightly built man with short stubbly blonde hair flew out of the open motel door.

Sam couldn't hear much of what they were saying through the windows and doors of the Impala, but from what he gathered the car belonged to the guy, but she had his keys and was determined to take it. They yelled into each other's faces for a while, and the distraction their fight was allowing Sam started to lose its power.

Suddenly he felt an overpowering and irrational fear, so heavy it was borderline panic. Outside the wind whipped up and the sky darkened threateningly. His headache from last night was back full force, as Sam spun around in his seat. He started to breathe harder, eyes scanning the parking lot around him for someone or something he didn't have a name for. Where was Dean at anyway? Maybe it got Dean! Just like in his dreams. Dean was dead. Dean was dead.

Sam was beginning to hyperventilate. The impala's usually comforting walls, now felt like a coffin. He reached for the door handle to get out, but the car was locked and no matter how much he struggled with the little knob by the window, it just wouldn't budge to unlock the door.

Sam pulled his legs up into his seat. He focused on staying calm, and keeping his breath from sawing in and out as he attempted to pull in enough oxygen. His head pounded along with each frantic breath. Wild eyes searched out the front window for someone to come and help him but no one was there. All the windows were now pitch dark, as if no one had ever been there. As his eyes passed over the room right in front of him he froze.

He pressed back in his seat slightly and his breathing stopped altogether.

There standing in the darkened window of the room they were just in, was a man. He was about average height, average build, with sandy blonde hair, and a condescending smile. His eyes glowed out of the dark room, a bright disturbing yellow. As Sam stared back at him in shock, the man's smile became wider.

"Sam!" a voice called out. Sam whirled back around to look in the back seat. There lay Dean, his big brother, with a couple of deep gashes across his chest, deep enough to cause blood to seep out of his mouth. There was a cut across his face as well, completely destroying his right eye. The gore of it was enough to make Sam sick, but what really got him was the other eye. There was no life there. The spark that was Dean was gone, glazed over, cut down. The hazel orb stared up at the ceiling of the impala.

"No." Sam whispered. Not again. The same thing every time. Dean always died with the same exact injuries. As Sam stared in frozen horror, Dean's mouth moved, "Sammyyy"

"Hey Geek boy!" The mouth gurgled blood, but the voice was crystal clear Dean. Sam turned back around to stare back at the man in the window. Yellow eyes winked at him, and then slowly walked backwards until he faded into the dark. "Saaaaammmmm."

"Sam wake up dude. You're starting to freak me out a bit."

Sam jerked up out of his seat nearly bashing Dean's head against the dash board. "Woah, Woah!" Dean held both arms out in front of him, eyes slightly unbelieving. "What was that all about geek boy?"

Sam shuddered, "don't call me that." He quickly glanced over to room 113. Of course they got the room with the number 13 in it. Winchester luck didn't need any help. The window however was still closed off on the inside by a vomit green dust covered curtain. Dean followed his gaze to their old room, then turned back to Sam confused, "you all good?" Sam swallowed nervously and nodded. Dean pulled himself into his seat and swung the door shut.

"When we get to the site Dad is meeting us at, we'll see if he has some ibuprofen you can take for that headache of yours."

"How did you know?" Sam asked only slightly surprised Dean picked up on that.

"Big brother intuition."

Sam just rolled his eyes. As they pulled out of the drive way, Sam couldn't help notice that the couple that had been fighting moments before, were now practically laid out on the hood of the Saturn making out. The discarded back pack forgotten on the floor still leaking the women's underwear for everyone to see.


	2. Chapter 2

Ch.2

The sun was on its way down when Dean finally pulled the Impala onto the side of the road. Gloomy dusk cast shadows from the black car, where it sat on the shoulder, trees reaching out in a thick line on their left. Sam rubbed his eyes, trying to relieve the pressure in his head that hadn't quite gone away, "Is this it?" Sam inquired, already opening the door to get out and stretch his legs.

"Yeah," Dean said tiredly opening his door with a squeak before following his brother to the trunk, "Or at least… man, I hope this is the right spot." The weekend had been packed full of hunting, and when their dad decided to split up so he could finish a job a couple cities over Dean had taken up most of the driving like usual. His voice sounded genuinely worried but there was quite a bit of resignation to it as well, as if, by chance they were in the wrong spot, it wouldn't have ruined his day. Sam couldn't help but laugh a little under his breath.

They decided to pop the trunk and retrieve their bags, and some extra supplies, and weapons they might need for the hunt. A moment later and they were leaning against the trunk door on the side of a mostly deserted road. Sam noticed Dean glancing at his watch nervously every other minute, before looking back up the road and running a hand down his face. He could guess what the problem was; Dean always got a little twitchy when their dad was late from a hunt. To be honest it worried Sam at times too. The man kept his phone off in the midst of things, and if he were to be taken down there would be no way for them to know. For all they knew the hunt had simply taken a little more time than John had originally thought, and he hadn't gotten around to turning his phone back on. By the time the brothers got worried enough to go look for him, the oldest Winchester could have been long dead already.

"What time is it?" Sam asked following his brother's line of sight up the road, ears peeled for the loud rumbling of their dad's rusted red truck, "He said to be here by 7:30 right?"

Dean nodded still staring off into space, "Yea." He pulled his phone from his pocket, "Its nearly 8 by now. It's nothing to worry about though. He could just be stuck in traffic." Sam almost snorted at that. What traffic? He guessed it was possible their dad broke down somewhere, but Sam was almost positive Dean was only coming up with stuff to calm them both down. No need to panic.

They sat there for another 15 minutes. By that point, Dean was pacing up and down the shoulder of the road, growling under his breath and kicking loose rocks from the asphalt. The sun had completely disappeared and the sounds of night bugs had kicked up into one great cacophony. The cicadas themselves sounded almost like maniacal laughter. It was beginning to put Sam's nerves on edge. Everything about this hunt felt wrong. They had practically jumped to the conclusion that it was a Wendigo. Sam had felt they had needed more research, but every time he brought it up Dean would call him a worry wart, and their Dad would get mad and they'd ended up in an argument. Sam would accuse their dad of being reckless, and putting their lives in danger over pride; that he couldn't even admit there was a chance he could be wrong. Their dad would accuse Sam of wanting to do more research on the hunt because then he would have more time to work on the history project, and the English essay, and then study for the big math test coming up. Sam would agree that that was a perfectly good reason to normal families and parents and John would come right back with "Exactly! We aren't normal families Sam! You're being selfish! People are dying out there!" It was infuriating enough that by the end of the fight Sam felt like bashing his dad over the head with the hotel lamp and then tearing out all of his hair. There was just no talking sense into the man. Because Sam was only 17 he couldn't possibly know what he was talking about, right? That was hardly fair.

Sam shivered in the cold wind, and was just turning to sit in the car when he heard the tell tale roar of the old truck. Dean snapped his phone shut with a relieved sigh, but when the truck actually pulled up behind them, a scowl replaced it.

The truck was turned off, the engine still ticking noisily as it cooled down. A pair of heavy black boots struck the ground by the driver`s side and then the door was slammed shut. Their dad came walking towards them carrying his duffel, which Sam presumed had been in the passenger seat. He didn't even look up as he approached them, but continued digging around in it searching for something. Dean cleared his throat but their dad seemed preoccupied. "Hey boys!" he said finally looking up when he was standing about a foot in front of them, "We should get going." Sam noticed he looked very much awake and rested; no tell tale shadows beneath his eyes, or drooping lids. Their dad's posture was not slouched or dead on his feet, but energetic and strong; nothing like someone who had been driving for three days straight to get rid of a ghoul within one night and turn back around to meet them. The eager smirk on his face obviously was getting to Dean as well, because he brought it up.

"Dad," he said, finally gaining focused attention from the older hunter, "Where were you? It's nearly an hour after when you said you would be here." Dean pushed off from where he was leaning against the impala. He was nearly the same height as their father, if maybe a little shorter. Sam could see the muscle in his jaw ticking.

John Winchester sighed, "Yea I was a little late. The hunt finished earlier than I thought it would and I decided to stop for some shut eye before trying to drive all the way up here." His tone clearly expressed his indifference in the matter.

"What and you couldn't have turned on your phone. We thought maybe you got injured or something." Dean's voice was a little gruffer, but not raised. Sam mentally congratulated him. If he had been this mad at their dad, the argument would have already turned into a screaming match by now, right there on the side of the road. John obviously didn't get the hint though, because he simply scoffed, moving between them to the trunk, saying, "So much faith you have in me," like it was a joke.

Sam tilted his head up at his big brother. The jaw muscle was going crazy, and it was clear how much Dean wanted to continue this conversation. Again Sam was amazed as Dean let it go completely and turned to help with the supplies.

About 5 quick minutes later, they had selected their weapons of choice from the mini armory that was the trunk of the impala, and had packed up all possible salts, bullets, and first aid equipment they had forgotten or left in one of the vehicles.

As they made their way along the shoulder and into the slight ditch near the tree line, Sam lingered behind the other two. That same chill from earlier was back, and it had little to do with how cold it was out. The sun had completely gone down, and the silent stretch of road disappeared into the darkness on either side of them. It had an exposed feel to it, like they were sitting ducks and yet lost in the wilderness at the same time.

At the bottom of the ditch Sam stopped to look back up at the road. The cars stood quietly waiting for their return, and quick bursts of wind stirred up the trees, adding some extra soft noise to the eerie racket coming from the cicadas. Sam scanned the edge of the asphalt and glanced at the mile marker that stood directly behind them. 350. He shivered again. The number 350 had been a major theme in most of the recent dreams he had been having. In nearly every one Dean would die. It wasn't a good observation. How much of a coincidence could it be that the mile of road they happen to be hunting near is mile number 350?

"Sam!" Sam turned to see his dad, and Dean standing just within the trees, "What are you doing!" His dad called. Sam looked back at the mile marker one more time, and then shook his head. He was being ridiculous. It was just a dream.

As Sam hurried to catch up, he, nor the other Winchesters, noticed the pair of yellow eyes glowing from within the dark woods.


	3. Chapter 3

Ch. 3

The hunt was at a state park. That was the only reason it was brought to their attention. A family had gone camping just about a month ago, and the only one of them who had made it out safely had been a young boy. From what they could get out of him, his mother had made him run, and the Wendigo picked off the easy stationary parents who were disoriented and protecting their children, and then the older sibling. The daughter had tried hiding behind some bushes and rocks and had been easy to find.

Sam had spent the last couple of days going to school, being picked up by Dean and then attempting to get an audience with the distraught 10 year old boy. Of course then he had stayed up to ungodly hours of the night doing homework and studying but that wasn't something that his brother had to deal with. When he had fallen asleep at around 1 or 2 am, he'd been awoken a little over an hour later from horrifying nightmares of yellow eyes, and dead Deans. At this point he was exhausted, and frankly it made him more jumpy and nervous.

They dug their way through the thick growth of the woods for a while, searching for the trail they were looking for that would lead them to the original campsite. The constant tripping over low hanging vines, and tree roots, and being smacked in the face by branches Dean pulled forward was really getting old. Every time he was whacked in the head by one his brother would look at him all apologetic and innocent but the minute he started to turn away Sam could see an amused quirk starting at his lips to accompany the entertainment in his eyes. It was seriously irritating. He was also quite envious of the fact that where his brother crouched and glided his way through all the snags and entanglements that popped up gracefully and in the dark none the less, Sam could hardly stay on his feet. Every tree root, or rock that happened to cross his path was enough to trip him up, and every time that happened it would cause enough noise for their Dad to turn an irritated glare on him and hold a finger up to his mouth to tell him to stop making so much noise.

By the time they finally found the narrow trail none of them were cold any more, but had actually succeeded in working up a sweat. Sam could feel the sting of the welts created by the branches all over his body. His knee was throbbing from where he had tripped over a thorn bush, and there was a slight trickle of a warm liquid running from his cheek. He glanced around, while their dad was waiting for Dean to get the rock out of his shoe (?). By the dim light created by his flashlight, Sam compared himself to his family. Their dad's hair was a completely mess, sticking up in every direction, and housing little sticks and leaves, but apart from that there were no scratches that Sam could see, _probably because he didn't have any one in front of him causing branches to come slapping back, _Sam reasoned. It did look like there were some spider webs still sticking to him in places. Sam could have sworn he saw something scudder across his shoulder going completely unnoticed by John Winchester. He was suddenly glad he wasn't the one in front. Dean on the other hand had a few small scratches on his face that weren't even bleeding. His jeans had a couple of holes at the bottom, and the shirt under his leather jacket looked to have suffered some as well. All in all though, Sam had definitely made in out of the thick part of the woods, looking worse for wear.

John caught his breath for a moment then shone his flashlight back at them, "We all good now?" he questioned, with a bit of sarcasm in his voice. Just as he said it, something started buzzing around Dean's head. He whipped around, the flashlight beam bouncing eerily through the trees as he swatted at air. Sam watched smirking slightly as his brother suddenly made a "ugh" noise and then slapped himself in the face. Sam couldn't help letting a small snicker go. Payback. Dean hated bugs. Dean glared at him as he rubbed his cheek, and ran his fingers through his hair frantically to ward off any bugs that might have ended up on his head. Their dad gave them a pointedly look, "Stop messing around," he whispered obviously annoyed, "let's keep going." He then turned around muttering something about getting killed. Dean started to follow after him, and Sam behind him. They already knew where they were going. John made it a point for them to study the road maps and the state park maps before meeting up with him. The first killing had happened at the Plum Grove campsites, campsite number 3.

Dean shuddered as he followed along the trail, and the night bugs were illuminated as they flit into the edges of the lights. "I hate bugs." He whispered quietly, more to himself than to anyone else. Sam still heard him. To the youngest Winchester bugs were the least of their worries. It was the ghosts, wendigos, werewolves, ghouls, and other assorted monsters out there that scared him; the unpredictability of the hunt. Not knowing if Dean or his dad would still be living after the creature was dead. His dad's need for revenge really pissed him off most of the time.

At a steady, cautious pace, they wound their way along the dirt trail, trees pressing up on either side of them, and the darkness pressing in everywhere. The light from the flashlights cast light enough to see, but it only enhanced how dark it was in the spaces between the trees where the light couldn't reach. There were no camp noises in the park, no hikers, and no camp fires lit. Ever since the first killing, and more and more as the deaths and missing persons persisted over the last month, fewer and fewer families and nature lovers showed up for weekend camping and hiking. Even the workers and volunteers had started to dwindle. Sam wished not for the first time that they could have done this during the day. Unfortunately all the attacks had happened at night.

They had been walking along the trail for close to an hour now, and Sam had taken up yawning every 2 seconds. He was exhausted. They'd known from the beginning that the path that extended from where they entered to the entrance of Plum Grove was going to be close to 3 miles, but Sam really hadn't anticipated how worn out it was going to make him. When they finally reached Plum Grove they stopped just outside the entrance and moved to the side of the trail to dig water out of their duffels. Sam guzzled the water, suddenly extremely thirsty. His stomach had started to growl as well. He hadn't eaten a lot before they left. There had been too much going on and his anxiousness over the hunt wouldn't have allowed him to force down anything anyway. He squatted down, feeling the muscles in his thighs stretch out, as he looked to his dad curious as to why they were just standing there. When he finally caught the eldest Winchester's eye, John looked his youngest son over, noticing the droopy eyelids, and dark circles under his eyes. There was a bit of blood on his face already, but it wasn't much to worry over. "You ok Sam?" he grunted.

Sam nodded shoving his hair out of his face, as he stood back up, "yes, sir."

John nodded as well, accepting Sam's answer, "Good. Ok we are going to keep going. Remember Camp number three, got it?" Sam and Dean both shook their heads in acknowledgement, and John continued in a quiet whisper, "Are you sure you got this Sam? I mean it. No tripping over tree roots and knocking yourself out like you did the last time we were in the woods on a hunt. Dean nearly didn't see the wolf until it was on him, he was so worried about you. Keep your head in the hunt," and with that he had turned away, completely missing the look up anger that flashed over Sam's faced. Dean glanced over at Sam worriedly before following their dad as if to say he didn't blame him for being so freaking tall, and not knowing where his feet were going. Sam saw the look but couldn't stop his temper from simmering slightly on the surface. It wasn't even the words that really pissed him off, but more the way his dad had said it. Sam already knew he had been a liability on that hunt a couple months ago. He knew Dean could have died. He had already accepted it would have been his fault, and that he would be extra careful on all hunts afterwards. The words he was ok with, but the complete condescension coming from the great hunter John Winchester, as if he were talking to a little kid. That was what got to him. He could take care of himself. It wasn't like he hurt himself on every hunt, and it wasn't like he had any control over Dean's reaction to when he did.

He followed after Dean muttering to himself, and watching his feet. He'd be damned if he tripped again on this hunt. When they got close to the campsite, he noticed John taking the safety off his gun, and followed suit, making sure to keep his finger off the trigger until he absolutely needed it. It'd be horrible to accidently shoot someone. One by one they ducked beneath the ratty yellow caution tape. Once they were standing in a circle within camp number three, with their backs turned in towards each other in the space where the tent was supposed to be set up, Dean whispered, "Now what?"


	4. Chapter 4

Ch. 4

Honestly Sam felt kind of stupid, standing in a circle with guns raised, waiting for… what exactly? The persistent thought that people had died right where they were standing was also making him a little antsy. Maybe if they made noise like they were campers the Wendigo would come out. That seemed pretty risky, and Sam still wasn't a hundred percent on board with it even being a Wendigo in the first place. There was definitely a lot of blood when bodies were found at all, but there was just something fishy about there never being tracks or drag marks. There weren't even snapped twigs, nor any disturbed vegetation.

"Ok, I think we should split up. Dean, I want you and Sam to walk back down the path, but stay just off the trail. Close enough for it to be in sight but…"

"Shhh!" Dean suddenly interrupted. Sam tensed up at the urgency in his voice. What if it was already watching them, preparing to attack? "Do you hear that?" Dean whispered.

Sam listened. He was listening for nearby snapping twigs or the far off screams for help, but what he wasn't prepared for was the high pitch giggling coming from farther off up the path. It was quiet for a moment before someone shouted something good naturedly. It didn't sound like someone in distress. There was some random splashing, presumably something being thrown in the park lake, and then the morons started full out howling.

"Let's go!"John barked. Dean took off, as he was the closest to the yellow tape, and Sam jerked forward after him, but ended up falling behind his dad. With the noises these campers were making Sam couldn't believe they had missed them earlier. It sounded like they were the only ones in the entire park. There seemed to be four different voices bouncing off the thick woods and across the dark water from all directions at once. It was hard to pinpoint exactly where they were coming from, and with the pitch darkness, and eerie silence in between the bodiless voices made it all more than a little disconcerting.

Sam chased after them concentrating hard on where his feet were going even while the flashlight bounced around everywhere as he ran. They ran as quietly as they could, but still Sam noticed that John was no longer worrying about staying concealed by the trees, and off the trail in direct sight. If they were hunting a monster that could see a hundred times better than them in the dark all the while carrying give away flashlights, why did it matter anyway?

Before Sam, Dean was already much ahead of him. All he could see were the occasional Dean-like shadows as he ran headlong down the path.

They were nearing on a half mile, when Sam saw the other two disappear around a corner in the path. He was cursing under his breath, as he forced his speed to increase, but before he could round the corner he stopped when another screaming giggle rang out... from behind him. Somehow they had gotten confused and had run past the campers. "Dad" he yelled as loudly as he dared, "Dad! Dean! Come back! You're going the wrong way!" He paused, suppressing his panting breath to listen for a response. There was none. _Dad is probably ignoring me if he even hears me anyway. He probably thinks I am trying to screw up the hunt again. _He thought in despair.

Sam was just starting to continue chasing after them and bring them back, when he froze. It was completely silent in the park. He hadn't realized before. Besides the obnoxious yells, chants, giggles, and howls still emanating from the distant campsite, there were no other noises. No night bugs making their usual racket, or bats shrieking from the tree tops. There were no birds making any sort of noise, which even if that wasn't very unusual for nighttime, there were usually at least one out there tweeting and cawing away. The thing that really seemed to be missing was the ominous laughter created by the cicadas. It had completely stopped. That couldn't be right. He thought of all the movies where the monster struck right after the unsuspecting victims notice the absence of noise, and shivered. He would have shaken the thought off if the flashlight in his hand hadn't started flickering. He knew what that usually meant and that meaning at least had been proven to be true in the past. Except for the one time, Dean's batteries had gone dead on a ghost hunt.

Sam turned around suddenly feeling exceptionally cold air on the back of his neck, and jumped in shock, dropping the flashlight, where it bounced in the dirt, the top popping off casting the immediate area in total darkness. Sam hardly noticed, as he came face to face, with not a Wendigo like his instincts had been telling him it wasn't in the first place, but a young girl who looked a couple years younger than himself.

"Your dad won't hear you," she snarled at him, "they'll never find you." She suddenly grabbed him by the throat and with supernatural strength threw him against a cluster of trees. The side of his right knee slammed into the rough bark. His jeans protected him from any cuts it would have caused but he yelled out at the blunt force along the tendons there. As soon as he landed, Sam scrambled around in the leaves searching for his duffle that had swung off his arm. He had his gun in his hand still, and thankfully it hadn't discharged. However it was useless in this situation no matter how much he wished otherwise.

Dropping the gun and glancing over his shoulder, Sam watched as she suddenly dematerialized leaving an imprint on his mind of where she had been standing. Right as his fingers wrapped around the duffle strap, the girl was suddenly in front of him smiling down at him, all humanity gone from her eyes. They weren't hunting a Wendigo. They were hunting a ghost; a mad, mad ghost.

"They will never find your body…" she hissed, stalking towards him, flickering out of focus, as she glided above the ground, "Just like me." Sam frowned. Ghosts usually killed the same way they themselves were killed if they never got justice. It was what connected a lot of them to the land of the living. The zipper zipped open beneath Sam's hands, but he kept his eyes on the ghost.

Digging a hand into the open duffle, Sam tried to distract her, "Is that why you killed all of those people? Someone killed you and hid your body. Somewhere no one would find it..." The ghost paused drawn into her distorted memories, and vengeance drawn desires.

"He cut me across the chest, but I was still alive," she pouted, glaring down at Sam as if he were her main source of anger, "'e buried me alive. I TRUSTED HIM!"

_Cut across the chest... Just like Dean. Oh god... No! Focus Sam. Head in the hunt!_ He shook his head at his panicked and adrenaline laden thoughts. That wouldn't help right now. "You must have felt so alone out here, lying bleeding in the ground, hoping someone would come out to find you." _Aha! Got it! _Sam finally wrapped his fingers around the salt canister, as he cursed his dad for not listening to him. If it weren't for him, they could be carrying around rock salt guns, instead of useless flare guns! The wind whipped up, the ghost's eyes sparking in the darkness as her anger was fueled by Sam's words, "No one cared to find me!" She howled rushing at Sam, arms outstretched. Sam twisted the top of the container and yanking the salt from the duffle, threw some free into her enraged face.

She disappeared.

Sam exhaled in relief, before spinning around onto his non injured knee, and levering himself to his feet with his hands. Grimacing he tried putting pressure on his right leg, but his knee felt stiff, probably from swelling. He needed to get moving. There was no telling when the ghost would return.

"Sam!"

"Dean!" He yelled back, panting. He couldn't believe it took them this long to realize he was no longer following.

"Where are you?" Dean called back, followed by a gruffer, "Sam! What the hell are you doing!" from his father.

"Hurry! You guys past them! It's not a Wendigo!"

"Sam, don't start that again!"

Sam rolled his eyes angrily. He didn't have time to argue with them. He picked his broken flashlight up from the trail, and quickly retrieved his discarded gun, flicking the safety on and stowing it away in the duffel. "Just follow the trail back!"

He zipped up his duffel, spinning in a slow circle to make sure she didn't catch him unawares, when suddenly a bloodcurdling high pitch scream broke the silent night.


	5. Chapter 5

Ch. 5

I am embarking on my 10th hour sitting in a car on my way to see family. Sorry if I am channeling my inner "brother strangler", or if there are any mistakes. Thanks for the comments, and subscriptions. I don't own Supernatural . I just like to write .

….

Sam waited just long enough for the heart stopping scream to reach its end before he was off, off the path, and racing through the thick woods, tree branches slapping at his face and clothes, and obscure roots again leaping out to trip him. Concerned hollering of Sam's name came from somewhere behind him from his distressed brother, while yelled curses and threats that "if he didn't get his butt back there with them, he'd be grounded for a month" or "doing extra running". He considered it, but his racing adrenaline was doing more than dulling the pain in his knee. It was pushing him forward, making the decision for him that it was now or never to disobey orders, save someone's life, _prove himself. _

Beyond the pounding thuds of his heart, and out somewhere in the woods, he could hear chaos breaking out; frightened cries and confused calling from different people. There was splashing, and crashing, and Sam hoped they weren't scattering. On second thought, perhaps running worked if that little boy could get away, but gosh would it make them all the more harder to protect. Sam stopped momentarily to listen for a direction. They weren't far away, just hard to pinpoint in all those trees. It seemed in the time it took him to get to where he was he had veered a little away from his direct path. Either that or they _were _scattering and the sounds he was hearing no longer came from where they originated. All the same he maneuvered himself slightly to the left, and continued a slower climb through the thicker undergrowth and younger trees that were now a lot closer together.

Only a minute through he was starting to feel a little ridiculous. His feet were tangling hopelessly in the vines and thorns. Burrs covered him, and he could hardly see what the heck he was stepping in, but he could now feel those spiders and other creepers crawling swiftly along his neck and into his shirt sleeves. Their camp was right there! So close. Someone was probably already dead by now, but he was much farther along that his father and brother, so his eyebrows furrowed in a stubborn determination that was most definitely genetic and he continued pushing and shoving his slow way through. They were there, very close. If he squinted enough he could imagine he saw them running around as blind as he in the dark.

Sam stepped forward once again and his entire leg snagged in something in front of him. With his forward momentum he fell forward. He yelled out in frustration, as he felt something slice deep into his elbow. Gritting his teeth he grabbed fistfuls of whatever was in front of him and dragged himself out of the ensnarement. At this point he was so irritated he was happily ripping up whatever was in front of him with brute force just to get that couple of meters forward and into the campsite. Now he was feeling beyond a little ridiculous; more like full out foolish.

As Sam was cursing and spitting his way to his feet and the screaming was quieting down again causing him to feel desperate, suddenly from a lot farther behind him than he expected, he heard the loud but strangely muted clap of a gun. He stopped, breathing heavily. There was only one person he could think of who had that kind of gun with him. As far as Sam knew Dean was carrying a flare gun, but their father always brought along the garden variety gun on every hunt "just in case". What could cause him to shoot that? Did he forget to bring "just in case" salt? Did they run into a Werewolf? Or was it even Dad? He thought. His heart was skipping beats with anxiety. Maybe Dean was hurt. In his head he got a glimpse of Dean from the nightmares. Torn up and dead. But he had to accept the fact that turning back now would never get him there on time, so not only would his family receive no help from him, but the campers would probably die. John and Dean were experienced hunters with weapons, the campers were not.

A little under a minute later, but what felt like an hour to Sam, the trees thinned out and he was able to run crashing the last meter through the woods. A lantern sitting cracked on its side in the dirt was giving off flickers of light. Sam cringed hoping it was only broken. Where was the ghost at? A tattered and ripped blue and orange tent sat in its designated spot, clothes and sleeping bags were scattered all along the ground beside it. Sam stood with his back to a tree as he took in the situation, but when he could hear voices arguing somewhere in front of him he ran forward, crouching a little more out of habit than anything else. If the ghost wanted him she would come right up to his face.

There was something splayed out on the top of the picnic table. He moved a little closer when a girl's voice whimpered out, "Oh my God! Please don't kill us! Leave us alone!" and then he could see them. There was a guy and girl, both looking about 20, hunched down beneath the table. To his horror, the ghost _had_ already killed off one of them. Lying across the top but to the left on the wooden table was the body of a girl within the same age range as the rest of them. Her eyes were staring into the night, unseeing, her face frozen in a picture of terror. Her stomach and chest was a bloody mess.

"I'm here to help." He whispered back to them as he got closer and they huddled beneath the table.

"O thank god." The girl sobbed into the guys shoulder.

"Hold on a second Allie. He could be the killer. He has a bag. Stay back!" The guy yelled out to him. If he were the killer, what would that do? Sam thought rolling his eyes in exasperation.

Aly snapped her head up, "No Daniel. How many times do I have to repeat myself to you? It was a girl, Damn it! A teenage girl!"

"Really Al? A girl." He said in derision, "You're in shock. You could have thought you saw anything. Marcus! Get down here man! There's nothing you can do." Aly said nothing to that even though Sam could tell she was pissed, but her blush also gave her away. Sam would bet anything that she had thought she saw more than just a teenage girl, but perhaps a flickering teenage girl, or one that could disappear in one place and reappear in another, or maybe she even thought she saw a ghost. But then Sam realized there was another guy there. He was sitting on the other side of the table, explaining why Sam didn't see him at first. His head was down against the dead girls shoulder, and his hands were wrapped around one of hers. Marcus was completely drenched in the girl's blood.

"We don't have time. Please, you are just going to have to trust me" Sam said, when Daniel continued to look at him like he was an axe murderer. Just then Sam's eyes were directed to the flashlight in Aly's hands, where it began to flicker. That light was definitely not broken. His body went cold, and his breath turned to exhaled mist.

"No way man…" Daniel continued to argue. It was irrational really. Sam was obvious no threat, but he assumed the guy was trying to over compensate for something he had no control over.

"No time I said!" Sam yelled at him, now a little angry. He had been dragged through thorn valley, was covered in spiders and scratches, and his family was out there in danger, all for these college kids who were probably baiting the ghost unintentionally after hearing about the deaths. The least they could do for Sam was follow his lead and stay alive, "Every one under the table now!" He rushed around the table and shoved the unaware blonde backward. Caught in surprise, and grief Markus didn't react fast enough to keep his body from rolled to its back on the bench seat. Before Markus could jump back up, Sam lunge to his side and shoved him over the side of the seat and next to Daniel and Aly on the ground. His leg unfortunately landed in the good sized puddle of coagulating blood directly below their dead friend. Markus yanked his foot back out of it looking traumatized despite the fact that it was everywhere on him. Sam was already running around the table with the salt canister shaking it out around the table, ignoring the shell shocked, incredulous stares of the campers when he yelled at them to "Keep him there! Don't touch the line!"

The salt connected itself around the table and he was just about to step in when three more shots rang out from far behind him. In the split second it took to hesitate at the noise he was suddenly thrown across the table from behind.


	6. Chapter 6

Ch. 6

When Dean noticed that Sam was no longer behind them, he immediately stopped, letting his dad run into him. "What..?" John sputtered, out of breath.

"Where's Sam?" Dean interrupted. His heart felt like it was in his throat. The Wendigo couldn't have taken him out that quietly, could it? He pushed past John and made his way back the way they came, "Sam!" he yelled, ignoring the glare from their dad. Sam was missing, and dad was worried about how much noise he was making. Why didn't he notice Sam was gone anyway? Was he not even paying attention? Did he care? There was no response from his younger brother, only more distant sounds of campers tempting disaster. He stopped his angered march away from his flabbergasted dad. The noises weren't coming from in front of them anymore, but from behind. Knowing his scary smart kid brother like only he did, Sam probably noticed it long before them.

"Oh Damn that kid!" he heard John curse angrily. It made Dean mad. Logically he knew their father loved Sam, and he was probably just worried. Dean did the same thing when he was scared, although he'd never admit it, but did everything have to be Sam's fault. The kid was on the edge of revolt the way things were going. He yelled Sam's name again, and listened for a response, his heart pounding a little harder every second there wasn't one. _No. NoNoNo. _The panic was nearly suffocating. If Sam had been right this entire time, he'd never forgive himself. While he hadn't disputed Sam's case outright that it might not be a Wendigo, he never defended him when their dad ripped into Sam over his argument. Some of the things he'd said were uncalled for, but at the same time his younger brother had said some pretty horrible things as well. He started running full tilt down the path, hearing his dad picking up speed behind him.

"Sam!"

"Dean!" Dean breathed a sigh of relief at Sam's voice not far down the path. He slowed his sprint, feeling more secure of everyone's whereabouts.

"Where are you?" Dean called back, followed by a gruffer, "Sam! What the hell are you doing!" from his father. Dean gritted his teeth. John knew what Sam was doing. He was being smarter than them, a much better hunter from where Dean was standing. Sam noticed where the camp was before they could.

"Hurry! You guys past them! It's not a Wendigo!"

"Sam, don't start that again!"

Sam didn't answer, but in any other situation he would have. Another way that Sam wasn't the failure John made him out to look. "Just follow the trail back!" Sam's voice finally called back, only a fraction of irritation coming through in his voice. Sam was just around the corner, out of sight behind the bend of trees, when the scream nearly shocked them out of their skin. When John stopped, crouching slightly trying to determine where it was coming from, Dean was running the last couple feet around the bend. He rounded the corner as the scream died out, and saw the moment Sam's eyes hardened in determination, before he was sprinting into the trees carelessly, ignoring the tree branches and a small trip over a stick Dean witnessed before the dark shadows of the woods swallowed him whole. His younger brother wasn't even holding a flashlight. "Sam!" he yelled again, "Come back!" Dean stayed where he was, hoping Sam would come back to them. His eyebrows narrowed in dismay. This was no longer the logical Sam.

As soon as John realized what happened he resorted to threats and cuss words, a type of language common in the Winchester family, but one that Sam had never responded well to. Dean had been right. Rebellion was inevitable, but this was the worst possible way he could think of. He could only imagine what was running through his brother's head at the moment. He took a quick step, intent on following after him, but was suddenly jerked back by the collar of his jacket and t shirt. He stumbled, and John released him unceremoniously. "No. We are absolutely not going to go chasing chaotically through the woods like morons. Let`s be smart about this." John said with the force he usually assigned to the F word, and it was obvious he meant Sam to be the Moron. _Yes because the way we have been handling this hunt so far has "smart" written all over it. _Dean thought sarcastically. He opened his mouth to argue. Sam was out there with no light and no back up. He was going to follow him, whether John said so or not.

However, that was about the time everything fell apart.

With a howling crash, the creature they had been hunting fell through the top of a tree and right across Dean, knocking the flare gun from his hands as they fell. Surprise caused Dean to freeze for a moment. He had been completely convinced that they were no longer hunting a Wendigo after Sam had gone missing. Dean's head connected hard with a tree root that stuck up from the ground, making a nauseating crack against the rough wood, and causing his vision to waver slightly. He shook his head trying to clear it. He heard his dad yelling at him to move his ass from somewhere in front of him over the inhuman screeches and howl s of the beast. He felt dizzy as he scrambled backwards, his head pounding painfully right along with his heart. He was so disoriented it'd be pointless trying to find the gun. A shot rang out in front of him, and he cringed back slightly trying to make sense of what was happening. Black dots were still dancing across the flashlight beam. Where was the fire? Weren't they supposed to be using flare guns?

"What are you doing!" he yelled as his vision cleared enough to see the creature whip around to stare at him, it's strange eyes staring into his. It seemed to be calculating, take out the threat, John, or the injured, Dean. "Dean! Shut up!" John yelled as the Wendigo finally decided on Dean and made it's way towards him. John fired two more shots at its back this time, but it did no good other than enrage the wrinkled and hairless monster. It roared in pain but otherwise continued its crouched stalking towards Dean.

Dean frantically ran his eyes along the ground, searching for the flare gun. He thought it had flung out to his right as he fell, as it had been in his right hand, but it was nowhere to be found. He couldn't find it. "Dean!" John yelled. Dean looked up, the monster but a couple feet from him. All it really had to do was leap and it'd be on him. Maybe it was playing with it's food? There was no way to know. Over it's shoulder John pointed towards the edge of the path, "It's right there." Dean looked scanning the tree line and finally he found it. He looked up at the hunched monster that was probably not even hungry, probably had plenty to eat with all these campers. It stared shamelessly at him, daring him to go for the gun. There was no use trying to outrun it, so he decided to count to three. One. The creature almost looked to be smiling. Two. It tilted its head, leaning forward. Three. He got only a split second head start before it was leaping after him. His hand wrapped around the weapon. His heart soared, but then the Wendigo was landing. John was desperately trying to get the creatures attention from behind them, yelling insults, and throwing rocks, even firing random shots at the trees beside them, careful not to get to close to the creature unless he hit Dean.

The Wendigo wrapped it long bony hand around his ankle, before it started running dragging him behind it, squeezing his ankle with a crushing force. Dean kicked out with his other leg, but the lithe, graceful creature, so used to the woods didn't even blink as it leaped with supernatural ease into the trees. It turned sharply swinging Dean around with it, and slamming his chest into the base of a tree. He gasped as the air was knocked from his lungs. John ran forward, throwing himself down beside Dean's head like a baseball player after a base and grabbing onto Dean's left forearm. He was pulling with all his strength but they were both sliding away into the woods, at an alarming rate. Still gasping, trying to pull in enough air, Dean desperately twisted around, both arm and leg twisting the wrong way, as he aimed at the creature's back. It was hard to get the perfect shot, with the Wendigo leaping from tree to tree, but he had to do the best he could given their situation. So he aimed, zeroing in as precisely as he could on the creatures back and let loose.

Dean, John, and Wendigo all suddenly stopped moving as the blast caught the shoulder of the creature. It screeched in torment, as the rest of it was consumed by flames. Dean crab- crawled quickly away from the inferno. The heat snapped at the cool air, some leaves getting caught as well and they hissed as they fell away. Thankfully though, it had rained recently and most of the wood was still waterlogged. They sparked to life for a moment, but soon died away leaving nothing but charred wood. The Wendigo wasn't so lucky. Within seconds the creature's entire length was covered in fire, It's shrieks rang out, completely covering up every other sound. It stumbled forward a few steps, shaking its head and arms around, trying to dislodge the fire. It was useless and in the end it fell, crumpling to its side in a patch of dirt and lay completely still.

_Now _Dean thought exhaustedly as he flopped onto his back by John, breathing in rasping breaths, _Step two; find Sam._


	7. Chapter 7

Ch. 7

Sam yelled out in surprise as his shoulders were thrown into the top of the park bench, his legs throwing him over with their momentum. He rolled the rest of the way off the table, falling awkwardly on the bench seat, and then falling face first onto the ground. He could hear two of the campers yelling in fear, and disbelief, as the girl who had stood behind him suddenly rematerialized in front their sudden protector.

Sam scrambled up; his only chances lay on the other side of the park bench in the form of a measly salt canister. Dirt and rocks scattered beneath his boots, and scraped his palms as he skid around the corner. A bright yellow sleeping bag that had been torn from the tent got wrapped around his leg, dragging him down as he turned the corner. He threw himself forward onto his stomach and stretched out his right arm. It didn't matter though, because up until that point the spirit of the lonely girl had been striving for the campers but no matter how much she tried her feet would never pass over the salt line.

With a shrieking cry of rage the spirit whirled around, a forceful breeze of freezing air turning with her, ruffling Sam hair as he threw himself forward for the salt, but he didn't notice. Before he had a chance to scrabble at the edge of the canister she had grabbed his leg, dragging him back towards the bench. Sam threw his arms out in every direction looking for something to grab onto, when she suddenly stopped. Sam kicked out, and was surprised when his leg fell from her grasp. He rolled quickly onto his back and scrambled back and onto his feet. Better to be thrown again or chased, than being dragged along the ground defenseless. The scene he turned to was irritatingly horrific. Marcus had finally come back to his senses.

"Looking for this", the blond yelled menacingly at the spirit, holding defensively in one hand what Sam could only assume was some sort of fish skinning knife. A knife that was probably only stainless steel or some other metal that was useless in this situation. But the worst part was that Marcus, having leapt mindlessly into the middle of something he didn't understand out of the hopes that he would have revenge for his dead girlfriend, had disrupted the salt lines, the only obstacle stopping the vengeful spirit from killing them all. The ghost having completely forgotten about Sam was now rushing Marcus, who stood bravely and stupidly motionless, knife held out.

Sam was at a loss as the knife passed through the ghost's chest, along with the rest of Marcus' arm. Marcus stared shocked at the spirit, who grinned as if defying sharp objects in death was the best thing since chopped liver. Marcus, whose mouth hung open, and whose eye's stared wide in horror, fell without a fight as the ghost pushed him. The knife fell from his hands, catching the girl's attention. Sam sprinted forward, "Aly! Hey! Throw me the salt! Now!" he yelled, quickly approaching the back of the ghost. The salt was thrown to him, and he dived slightly to the right to catch it. Sam turned and punched the canister at the ghost in time to hear a strangled scream. The spirit howled as she disappeared, and Sam hurried forward to get Marcus on his feet and back under the table.

"Oh my god!" Aly cried for the second time that night, but this time in grief, "Marcus..." Before Sam could say anything Daniel had broken from their fort, and had raced towards their friend, who now lay where he had fallen, staring panicked up at the sky, one arm reaching around in front of him, as blood gurgled up out of his mouth. Beside him sat the fish skinner, blood coating it and catching the meager light of the moon, casting off a red metallic shine that in any other event could have been described as pretty.

Sam knew they may as well leave him where he was, there was no way they could leave the woods until morning since there was no telling where the girl had been buried, and the guy wouldn't probably hold on for the time it would take them to get him out of the woods as it was. However, he was still alive, there was no way the last two surviving campers would leave him out there, and there was always a possibility the spirit would come back and cut on him some more while he was still alive.

"Here, help me carry him back to the table," Sam muttered, already moving around to Marcus' shoulders, "Get his legs." The guy had the audacity to stare at Sam like he was cold hearted for interrupting his friends time of dying, "Come on! We need to hurry up. The salt will drive her away, but she'll be back." That seemed to get him moving and in no time they were all under the bench, Sam with the salt canister, shaking more out around the spaces that had been muddled with.

They sat there for little under 5 minutes. Sam sat with his legs pulled up to his chest, his knee and left shoulder throbbing together silently, allowing more than enough space for the rest of them. Daniel and Aly sat around their dying friend, holding his hands with tears rolling down their faces. Sam couldn't look. He couldn't shake the feeling that somehow if his brother had been in charge of repelling the ghost and saving the innocents he wouldn't have allowed time for two of them to die. What had he been thinking charging through the woods with no plan, and no guarantee that he would even find the camp, let alone in time? He felt a little sick.

In the short time there were no more shots from Dad, only a distant roaring that quickly quieted down. Sam kept his ears peeled for any yells from his family indicating that the spirit had directed her attention towards them.

As the time ticked closer and closer to the 5 minute mark, there were suddenly noises close by, sounding like someone or some ones crashing their way through the dark woods. There were some muttered curses, and one very undignified shriek, before a shouted, gruff, "Sam!" was heard. Marcus' time had come to an end about a minute ago, and at the shout, both surviving campers turned wide watery red eyes towards Sam. Sam stared back, and then answered, "Yeah! Right here!" The other two jumped slightly, cringing at the sudden noise that to them would alert the ghost to where they were.

"Oh thank god." Sam heard Dean's voice coming slightly to the right of the site. They had obviously tried finding the site using the paths, but must have given up. There were no answering mutters or calls from his Dad, but Sam was expecting that. The man would probably shout himself hoarse at Sam later. Nothing new really.

"Get your salt ready!" Sam called back tiredly, "Be careful."

Momentarily, Dean and their Dad finally emerged from the woods, looking like they had been stuck in a washing machine for an hour and then rolled in dirt and twigs. Sam breathed out a quiet sigh of relief at the sight. Scratched, bruised, dirty, and tired he could deal with. At least they were still alive.

When their Dad finally got a look at him though, Sam almost took back that mental statement. Almost.

"Sam. What the hell do you think you're doing?" Both the campers turned their heads back towards Sam confused. "There is no ghost! What's with the salt? It was a Wendigo! We already got it."

Aly opened her mouth, almost like she was about to say something to John, but caught Sam shaking his head sadly at her. Dean was in stark contrast to their Dad. While he still looked dead tired and beat up, he was grinning like the Cheshire cat.

"Aww, Sam. You always get to hang out with the hot girls while I and Dad do all the hard work." He said jokingly.

"Hey!" Daniel yelled offended. He did not think that was funny. Sam could see Aly blush though.

"Guys, I'm not playing around here!" Sam yelled, "Please, either get the salt or get in here."

Daniel turned to Sam, "Dude, really? There isn't any room in here for them."

Aly decided to finally defend Sam, "He's being serious. It's a teenage girl." Here she turned mocking eyes on her boyfriend, "Marcus tried to kill her with the fishing knife, but his whole arm went right through."

At her account Dean frowned, and began digging around in the bag for his salt. John however didn't want to let it go. He angrily started walking towards Sam and the campers, when he suddenly stopped, all blood draining from his face. Sam turned, seeing the girl there too. She stood at the woods edge, observing it seemed. When she noticed them looking she disappeared. John immediately started digging through his bag, and didn't see her materialize not 10 feet from him, to quickly grab the fishing knife. Sam was out of the salt circle faster than the ghost could disappear again, making sure to not mess up the line. He raced forward, "Dean! Look out!" John was desperately looking around for his salt. Dean whirled around, facing the ghost as she raised the bloody skewer. Dean backed up quickly, his fingers finally finding the salt shaker.

Sam knew it was too late. The ghost swung forward. Sam was so close he might still be able to salt her once more, when his luck gave out. In so far, he had managed to stay solidly on his feet. He knew it was too good to be true. He jumped off a jutting rock, as the ghost started to swing down. He was there, one more step and he'd be close enough to get rid of her. He was elated at that knowledge, and so focused on saving Dean, that he completely forgot to pay specific attention to his feet. His right ankle rolled as he landed, leaning forward already taking another step forward. It rolled to the side and forward, and gave, snapping sickeningly. Sam screamed out, but desperately fell forward with his momentum, throwing the salt. It was too late. The knife was already completing its plunge into Dean's chest. Just like his gruesome and horrifying nightmares.


	8. Chapter 8

Ch. 8

I've been a little worried about how this is going to go, so I haven't been writing. Sorry. But I have an idea now. Please review/comment if you want. I don't own Supernatural..

…..

"No!" Sam yelled, as the knife rushed towards Dean. From behind his brother, at the angle Sam was at, it looked as if the knife was already going through, when suddenly, out of nowhere there was a sixth living person, or so it seemed, standing outside of the salt circle. The man stood between Dean and Dad, smirking, as he snapped his fingers. The spirit fell suddenly to her left, the force of the knife going with her. Sam froze clenching his fists, frantically. Did it hit Dean? He couldn't get up and run to them, being pretty sure that his ankle was broken.

Dean stood for a moment before he fell too, crumpling to the dirt. Their dad looked for a moment between the new comer and Dean before he threw himself to the ground next to his hurt son. Sam watched as the sandy- blond haired man stalked towards the spirit, who started shrieking and backing away from him. The man held out his arm, hand flat, and palm facing outward towards the vengeful spirit, who abruptly started shrieking with renewed vigor. John looked up, in time to see the man's eyes turn yellow, shining eerily in the dark. Both Sam and their Dad gasped, "You!" The ghost screamed once more and then disappeared. Yellow eyes turned to them smiling cheekily, before bowing with a wink and turning to walk effortlessly away into the woods. Sam could see his Dad shaking visibly. "Get your slimy demon ass back here!" the eldest Winchester roared. Sam wondered how their dad knew yellow eyes, and as John turned a glare on Sam, Sam knew he was thinking the same thing. There was no responding call or reappearance from yellow eyes. Neither of them could go after him, Sam with a broken ankle, and their dad with Dean. Sam still saw his dad hesitate. The man even leaned forward about to leave Dean there to bleed out. Sam's eyebrows furrowed angrily. How dare he?

John Winchester began shaking Dean slightly, "Come on son! Open your eyes for me. We need to get you to the car." Sam hopped up onto his good foot, hissing in pain. He was a little nervous to look at his ankle, the cracking sound still reverberating in his head. He slowly hopped over to where Dean lay, bracing his hands on the ground. He knelt next to Dean, his mouth opening in panic. Having to squint slightly in the darkness, Sam could see there was blood seeping from his brother's T-shirt, a lot of it. It went across in a slash of red, not straight through in one spot like Sam had expected. There was also a decent gash right above his temple. More blood than seemed proportional to the wound was congealing on the side of his face. When had Dean hit his head? The sight triggered a picture in Sam's mind of his brother lying in the back seat of the Impala, dead with visible deep cuts across his chest, and a smashed eye. Is that what could have happened if yellow eyes hadn't stopped it? He shuttered, thinking he should have told Dean regardless of the dread he felt.

"You!" John barked, "Help me get him up."

"Dad, my ankle's broken," Sam said frustrated, sweat breaking out along his forehead and neck, already knowing that in his dad's mood he was going to throw a fit.

"What!" Sam had been right. "Again! You managed to be a klutz again! You know what? I don't care; this is all your fault anyway. If you hadn't have gone running through the woods like an idiot, we could have watched each other's backs, and instead two people died anyway, Dean may needs a hospital, and somehow you got that bastard of a demon involved. How did you know him! Huh? You been talking to demons, Sam?"

Sam flinched back at the anger blazing in John's eyes. Did he just blame the deaths on him? Was he right? Was it his entire fault? Dean could have done better. "Now get up and help me!"

Before Sam could do or say anything, there was a call from behind them. "Hey!" it was the girl, Aly, "We can help, if you need us."

"Al! What are you doing? We don't know them!" Daniel called quickly stumbling out from beneath the table after his girlfriend, "What about Marcus, and Manda? We need to call the police…" and with that the guy yanked out his cell phone and was already dialing, when John finally got to him. Sam watched their dad slap the phone out of the kid's hand, and point a finger into his chest as he advanced on him, "No! No cops! You got me? Not until we," he pointed forcefully at himself and at Sam leaning over Dean, "are far, _far_ away!" Daniel stumbled back, mouth hanging open in alarm. He nodded quickly, raising both hands up to his head.

"It's no problem really." Aly continued, "I can't tell you how grateful I am that you helped us. And I mean," she glanced guiltily behind her at the bloody scene, and her two dead friends, tears jumping to her eyes, "it's not like they are going anywhere."

With an irritated grunt, and another glare at Sam, John had accepted their help. The girl had bullied her boyfriend into helping the older man carry his son, while she attempted to help Sam along. As they lifted Sam's older brother into an upright position, Dean groaned, his face crumpling in pain, before his eyes popped open blearily, and he got a glimpse of Sam with his arm over Aly's shoulder. He laughed, then coughed, "Got yourself a girlfriend Sammy? Finally!" Daniel looked at Dean like he was about ready to drop the guy and refuse to help any longer. Sam felt his ears heat up, and he rolled his eyes. Only Dean could joke around at a time like this.

"Help us out a little here, Dean. We need to get you to the hospital." Their Dad interrupted.

Dean's eyes widened slightly, "No! Come on, No hospitals." He pleaded, then cringed and brought a hanging hand up to his chest, "Ow…" he mumbled. Sam frowned. Dean was acting funny, kind of like he did when he was sick or had a concussion. Must have been a hard knock to his head, most likely a concussion. They started their slow progression back to the trail.

"Do either of you know a quick way back to the parking lot?" John barked out, obviously feeling a little irritated with himself for having to ask for help. Daniel immediately nodded, "Turn left up here."

By the time they got back to the Impala, Dean was unconscious once again and his dad was trying to get him to wake back up. Sam assumed Dean had a concussion and John was worried he'd slip into a coma if it was bad enough. He himself was nearly dragging Aly down. It had taken forever to get back to the car, and each little hop sent a jarring pain through his foot and calf. The swelling was already pressing against the sides of his boot and the compression was agonizing. Both Aly and he were panting for air as John reached his free arm around his duffle to unlock the car. Daniel whistled in appreciation, "Nice car, dude." They sat Dean down on the edge of the backseat bench, and Sam's older brother finally pried his eyelids open. He glanced around blearily looking confused, before his glazed hazel eyes landed on Sam, "What happened, Sammy? Are you hurt?"

Sam frowned at his brother worriedly. Dean obviously didn't notice earlier that Sam was injured even though he had seen Aly helping him. Suddenly Dean's face turned green. Their dad seeing the sign jumped back quickly but Daniel who had been distracted by John's sudden retreat received puke on his jeans and shoes.

"Ugh!" he whined, and then looked up at Dean, who was wiping his mouth, "Really? _Really?_"

Dean looked up at Aly, in his mind addled state, "Man, your boyfriend's a baby..." he whispered to her as if he were telling her a secret. Daniel's face turned purple.

Their dad side stepped the mess and pushed Dean down onto his back. As his hands came up from his dark shirt they were covered in blood. Sam felt his heart jump frantically. That was a lot of blood loss. Their dad hurriedly shut the door and turned to Daniel and Aly, "I appreciate your help. Do you want a ride to the hospital? There you could probably tell someone about your… friends, and they can send someone out here for them." Sam could tell the effort of slowing down and thanking them when he obviously just wanted to hurry Dean to the hospital was killing him. Luckily the other two realized this and hurriedly nodded before getting in the car. Aly helped Sam climb into the back seat with Dean, and she took the other side, while Daniel jumped up front. Sam's long legs had little room to maneuver especially with Dean there and it seemed ever angle he sat his right foot was always pressing against something. The pain was making sweat drip down his face, and he clenched his jeans in his fists, trying not to make too much noise every time the car hit a bump. He was itching to get the boot off.

They pulled into the hospital nearly 30 minutes later even with John driving like a maniac. Aly and Sam quickly got out of the back seat. Dean's pulse had been slow and off when Sam had checked in the car, his breathing hitching occasionally as well. Sam and Aly tried to keep him awake the whole way there but it was harder then because of the blood loss added to the head injury. They got Dean inside quickly, John yelling out for help. Dean was no longer responding to their attempts at keeping him awake, their dad becoming frantic by the time they finally wheeled Dean away on a gurney. Sam stood anxiously by his dad, Aly still supporting him, and Daniel hanging back, as they watched Dean disappear.

"I should probably get my ankle looked at." He muttered


	9. Chapter 9

Ch. 9

Sam leaned his head to the side against the wall, as the nurse finally left him sitting on the hospital bed. He had a dark blue cast on his ankle, which had been x rayed and set, and a wrapped knee. It was just sprained but his knee had swelled up almost as much as his ankle had. Sam had been chewing viciously on his lip the entire time he'd been there so far out of a lack of information and a worry for his big brother. He couldn't stop remembering them pulling up to the hospital, and no matter how much Sam had tried to wake him, Dean wouldn't open his eyes, wouldn't twitch or groan, only continued to breathe in and out shallowly, covered in blood. If it hadn't been for the fact that Sam could feel Dean's chest rise and fall with his breaths, it would have been just the same as the dream. Dean looked dead.

The nurse came bustling back into the room, "Ok, honey. We're all finished here. Let's get you out there with your daddy, and you can find out what's happening with your brother." She held up two crutches that had been tucked under her arm. He grabbed them, and slid off the bed, saying a quick "Thank you" as he hobbled out the door.

John Winchester met him at the door, to lead him back to the waiting room. The man didn't meet Sam's eyes all the way, and it irritated Sam. There was obviously something distracting the eldest Winchester, something on his mind. He'd bet anything that that something was yellow eyes. That was worrying Sam as well. How did his dad know yellow eyes? Until tonight Sam had been convinced the man was only a figment of his dreams, and then suddenly he shows up, obliterates a ghost somehow, and then disappears just as quickly as he had appeared. The more Sam thought about it the more the guy sounded like a Demon, in which case it seemed exceedingly disturbing that he'd been a star in nearly every dream Sam had since about 2 months ago. He glanced up at his dad. John Winchester obviously knew something. But that was a whole 'other can of worms. It'd have to wait.

"Your ankle ok?" John questioned gruffly out of the corner of his mouth, still not meeting Sam's eyes. Sam looked up at him as they both entered the waiting room, "Great", Sam said with just a smidgen of sarcasm making its way into his voice. His dad didn't notice, heck didn't even say anything in return. "Yeah. They gave me pain pills. Any news on Dean yet?" he asked hopefully in return.

"Yeah. He's got a pretty bad concussion, but the cut wasn't nearly as bad as I was expecting. Mostly just a lot of blood loss. We can go in and see him in a little." Sam was amazed that they were having a coherent and civil conversation, no anger involved, but he didn't let it get to his head. Sam was sure it would come back to his dad quite quickly all the reasons he was mad at Sam. Sam still couldn't believe he'd basically put the campers' deaths on him. There wasn't anything he could have done about it. Sam glanced around the waiting room full of screaming kids and hollering adults, trying to keep any traces of a scowl off his face. If his dad had only listened to him in the first place, maybe the hunt might have gone smoother.

His thoughts were discarded as a door opened a ways from them and a guy in a white coat, holding a clipboard called out, "Family of Dean Stevens?" John was on his feet before the guy finished speaking, "Yes, yes. That's us. Can we go see him now?"

The doctor glanced down over the tops of his glasses, at the clipboard, "Yes, you can. I'm Doctor Justice." He said probably for Sam's sake, as he held the door open as they passed, "Like I said earlier, Dean has lost a lot of blood, and we needed 14 stitches to close the cut on his chest. That amount of blood loss will probably cause him to feel a little weak, so it's only natural for him to be sleeping right now. We put a unit of blood back into him, and he's on some less effective pain medication, because we are still monitoring his concussion. Other than that he should be ok, as long as the cut stays clean and no infection sets in."

John Winchester nodded at the door to Dean's room, shaking the doctor's hand, as Sam passed them both and edged his way into the room. Dean was lying sprawled beneath white sterile sheets, a couple of wires led away from him to machines that were dutifully taking his vitals. The steady beep of Dean's heart on the heart monitor was the only sound in the room. Sam pulled a chair over to the side of the bed, noticing how pale his brother was, and the dark circles that rest beneath his eyes even as he slept. Sam instinctively searched out Dean's hand to comfort himself; to assure him that his brother was ok. He breathed a soft sigh of relief at the warmth radiating from Dean's skin, and the sturdy pulse at his wrist. He looked up as John finished talking to Doctor Justice. The doctor waved to Sam, telling them to push the call button if they needed anything, and then left back down the hall, stethoscope tied around his neck like a tie, nose buried in his clipboard once more where scribbles that hardly passed for writing dwelled.

John heaved a breath, as he sat down in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs by the wall of the tiny room. His eyes were glued on his oldest son, who looked younger than he was, buried beneath the hospital sheets, wearing the skimpy hospital gown, asleep with his head turned away buried in the pillow, his chin pressed to his chest, and the spiky light brown hair in disarray. He glanced at Sam, who held his gaze slightly questioning, before taking another deep breathe, "We need to talk."

Sam nodded, having expected this, "about the man at the campsite with the yellow eyes." Sam said it more like a statement than a question, "You said a demon right? What's with the yellow eyes?" The last question was asked almost rhetorically, not really expecting an answer, but his dad surprised him when he answered it anyway, "I don't know why yellow specifically. I've had Bobby do some research for me, but the only thing that makes sense so far is that he is different from most demons, more powerful." It was obvious to Sam from the passion in John's voice that he'd either hunted this particular demon before, or was still in the process of hunting it. And since it wasn't like John to leave a hunt incomplete, he was voting for the latter. Either way there was definitely more to it that his father was saying, but Sam let it go. There was something he was keeping from John as well, and he didn't plan on telling him, at least until after he told Dean and judged his reaction. Visions were supernatural things, and his father was a well respected hunter of the supernatural.

"Sam." There was a note of finality in his voice. _Oh great here comes the interrogation_, Sam couldn't help thinking. "How did you know it?" Sam's head was down, bangs hiding his eyes as he thought of how to proceed with this conversation. He didn't honestly think it would work but he tried anyway. "What are you talking about? I don't." He looked up into his dad's eyes. In this profession, he and Dean had become amazing liars, Sam thought shamefully. He watched his dad's eyes harden slightly.

"Cut the crap, Sam." He growled warningly.

"What?" Sam raised his voice indignantly, "I swear, I don't!"

John's voice rose to match his son's, "In the park! You recognized that demon, Sam. Tell me! Where have you seen it before?" In Sam's hand, Dean's finger's twitched, a sure sign that they were probably disturbing his sleep. This was getting him nowhere, so he went for a half truth.

He sighed dramatically, "I really don't. It's just in a couple of towns we have been in lately I keep thinking I see the same man everywhere we go. It was just me being paranoid and I'm not even entirely sure the guy the demon was riding in the park was the same guy I thought I kept seeing. It's really no big deal." John immediately looked beyond worried. Sam tried not to roll his eyes. If Sam said he was being paranoid in his makeshift story, it was nothing compared to how John would react. More times than not, worry for his brother and their dad, quickly turned to an irritable snappy anger. Sam was ready for the onslaught.

"And you didn't think to tell me this before! Damn it, Sam!" His dad leapt to his feet pacing back and forth in front of the chair he had just been sitting in. The room really wasn't big enough to pace in. "What if it was the demon! Or some human creep!" The anger in the small space was infectious, and Sam suddenly let go of Dean's hand and stood to his full height, which was nearly an inch taller than John, despite having to lean slightly because of his bulky cast.

"Why? _Why _didn't I tell you, you ask? Because in any situation I'm involved in, you always act like this. At the time, I wasn't as worried about telling you about a suspicion I had, so much as I was trying to get you to extend this hunt! And you wouldn't listen to me! Kept telling me I was just trying to get out of it, and that I was being selfish and wanted to take a test, while people died!"

"Well how was I supposed to know you were being serious, Sam?" John mocked in a quieter angry voice, "You never take hunts seriously, you are selfish most of the time, and you always go against anything that I say! Just tonight, you went running out into the middle of nowhere, with no clue where you were going, and ignoring me telling you to come back." Sam's blood boiled. _Him, selfish? _Sam thought, _after being forced to switch schools every other week, no place to call home, and having to put his life in danger on numerous hunts all because his dad couldn't let something go._

He stood still glaring at his dad, "And despite what you might like to think," He said more quietly, "two people are still alive because of that." Not being able to stand being there anymore in the tiny cramped room, with no way to avoid John's accusing glare, Sam turned on his good heal, snatching the crutches from where they leaned against the wall, and stormed out as successfully as he could on crutches.

As he swung angrily around the doorframe, he suddenly smacked into something soft and shorter than he, and before he could stop himself he and whoever he ran into were falling.


	10. Chapter 10

Ch. 10

Aly was walking down the hall, muttering under her breath repeatedly, "103, 103..." Daniel already left the hospital, after they had called 911 and pointed some attention in the direction of their dead friends. Grief gripped her just thinking about them, and the guilt came shortly after. They left Marcus and Manda out there in the cold night alone. The entire situation was tragic, and she still had blood from both of them on herself, and would kill for an hour long shower, but she needed to find them first; needed to make sure they were ok, that Dean, she thought his name was, would make it. She also felt compelled to thank Sam for a final time before she left the hospital for good. Her boy friend who was covered in blood as well thought she was crazy for staying any longer than she had to. He wanted to forget all about this tragedy, and get away from anything that reminded him of it. She didn't blame him, but was a little hurt at how easily he tossed aside her reasoning, saying she was off her rocker for searching them out.

"100…. 101…" She lengthened her stride, "102… 103." She stopped suddenly outside the door, feeling uncertain. Now what? They were going to think she was crazy too.

Right about the time she had gathered her courage and was about to step around the corner into the room, she heard raised voices,

"What? I swear I don't!" That sounded like it could be Sam's voice. She frowned, leaning against the wall, deciding to put off going in, not wanting to step into an argument, and feel more awkward that she already felt.

A deeper, gruffer voice rose challengingly "In the park! You recognized that demon, Sam. Tell me! Where have you seen it before?" Aly winced. Maybe she should just come back later. She hesitated, thinking over what was just said. A demon? First a ghost and now they were talking about a demon. Her first instinct was to turn that down. Demons couldn't really exist, could they? But she had seen with her own eyes the ghost. Was there more out there? Her world felt like it teetered on its axis about to fall away completely. If she was being completely honest this was the reason she was seeking them out. Daniel probably already convinced himself that what he had seen with his own two eyes was not real, and deny anything she said about it. Aly wanted, no needed, to know the truth. She couldn't tell herself her friends were murdered by a psychopath in the woods. It felt like betrayal to not know the truth.

There was a frustrated sigh, then, "I really don't. It's just in a couple of town's we have been in lately I keep thinking I see the same man everywhere we go." Aly had to listen closely to catch it, feeling horrible for eavesdropping on them. Towns? She thought. Did they move a lot? She thought. "It was just me being paranoid, and I'm not even entirely sure the guy the demon was riding in the park was the same guy I thought I kept seeing. It's really no big deal." _The guy the demon was riding _she repeated slowly in her head. This was getting weirder and weirder. She felt a hush in the room and short pause and then who she assumed was their dad started yelling. Was he stupid? His son was asleep in there trying to recover, and he was yelling.

"And you didn't think to tell me this before! Damn it, Sam!" There was a bit of a clatter, and then angry footsteps. "What if it was the demon? Or some human creep!" The anger and worry in the room was nearly tangible from the hallway. She felt a little worried for Sam in truth; his dad seemed a little volatile. She glanced around the doorframe already too deep into what was going on in there to leave now. She peeked in cautiously, hoping not to get caught, just in time to see Sam stand up awkwardly. His foot was in a blue cast, his jeans cut off at the knee. He looked completely worn out, his shirt was in tatters, beneath his jacket, and all kinds of nature had attached itself to his long brown hair. He had scratches on his face, and neck. His eyes however were blazing. Aly felt bad for him. She had only just met them, but in that short time she hadn't heard his dad say anything to him that wasn't yelled, or mocked in Sam's direction.

"Why? _Why _didn't I tell you, you ask?" She could tell by his outburst that he'd had enough. He hadn't really defended himself in the park when his dad was yelling at him. If it had been her, she didn't know what she would do. She watched silently as Sam leaned forward, jutting his chin out, eyes locked with his dad's. "Because in any situation I'm involved in, you always act like this! At the time, I wasn't as worried about telling you about a suspicion I had, so much as I was trying to get you to extend this hunt! And you wouldn't listen to me! Kept telling me I was just trying to get out of it, and that I was being selfish and wanted to take a test, while people died!" Hunt? This small family was unlike anything she'd seen before. As relieved as she was that they hadn't extended whatever it was that brought them out there, because otherwise she would probably be dead, she couldn't help but feel outraged at what Sam was saying. What parent would accuse their kid of something so incriminating? Her parents were elated to know she took school seriously. It obviously wasn't a priority in this family. It was her dream to get into an Ivy League school and become a doctor, or perhaps an engineer, she really hadn't decided yet. It would be devastating if her mom and dad didn't support her as much as they did.

The argument continued in the small room. She took in John, shorter but no less abominable, as he shuffled back and forth restlessly, like a caged tiger. His eyes were blazing as well, but there was a shiftiness to them. They wouldn't entirely lock onto Sam's the way Sam's locked with his. She couldn't really put her finger on it, but she felt he was trying to cover something up. "Well how was I supposed to know you were being serious, Sam?" John said in a quieter angry voice as if talking to a child. He stepped forward, closer to Sam. She could feel the pressure. Sam looked young and almost shorter than John crowded in the midst of the bed, wall, and cart, "You never take hunts seriously, you are selfish most of the time, and you always go against anything that I say! Just tonight, you went running out into the middle of nowhere, with no clue where you were going, and ignoring me telling you to come back." Aly chewed on her lip feeling upset herself at John's accusation. Sam stood stock-still glaring at his dad, "And despite what you might like to think," he said more quietly, "two people are still alive because of that." Aly jerked back behind the wall, seeing Sam shift, whirling around to yank his crutches from the wall, and head her way. She doubted he would have noticed her even if he had been looking anyway, he was far too angry to see where he was going. She panicked, there was nowhere to hide. She was trapped. And before she could fully comprehend what was going to happen it was already happening. Sam was suddenly right in from of her. The crutches swung angrily forward, landing on each side of her body, and before she could scuttle back, he was swinging himself aggressively right at her. Her panic caused her to freeze and his anger caused him to almost walk right over her, and suddenly they were hitting the ground, the crutches scattering, clattering across the linoleum floors. Her breath left her as she hit the floor, and Sam's weight fell across her stomach knocking the air from her lungs. She could do nothing for a moment but catch her breath and watch as his face crumpled momentarily, wincing as his cast thunked hard against the floor.

"Oh my god! Are you ok?" She asked him, as he rolled away from her and sat up. He panted slightly, and then looked up, his face turning red when he realized who he ran into.

"Me? I'm the one who ran into you!" He glanced wearily at the door he just came from, probably hoping his dad hadn't noticed. She didn't see how he possibly could have missed the commotion they made out there. All the same she was glad the older man hadn't come to investigate. Sam immediately jumped to his good foot looking embarrassed, hobbling over to grab the crutch closest to him, "I'm so sorry, really. I'm a bit of a klutz. My brother says Ill grow out of it. Doesn't stop him from teasing me though." He was rambling obviously still in a hurry to get out of there. He made to go after the other crutch, but Aly finally jumped to her feet and raced ahead of him to get it for him, and before she could stop herself her mouth ran off without her brain again, "Oh no it's ok. Anyone would have run into me standing so close to the wall like that. Beside you were mad…" She froze. _Crap._ She expected him to be shocked and angry that she had obviously been spying on them, but when she turned to hand him his crutch, he gave her a funny look then looked away guiltily.

"Do you want to go to the cafeteria and get something to eat? I'm starving." He said taking the crutch from her.

"Um, sure. Yeah." She said still feeling bad. He nodded his head in the direction he had been going before they had crashed, a silent invitation to walk with him.

They walked down the long hallway, smelling the sickness and death that always seems to permeate hospitals, and then followed the curve in the hall, lined with fake trees, and old pictures of the founders of the place. He glanced over at her, noticing the large splotch of red on her green T- shirt, and the smaller splatters of blood on her jeans and broke the silence, "Why haven't you gone home yet. I'd be itching to get out of those clothes." He suddenly broke off, realizing what he said, and again looking embarrassed. Aly burst out laughing. She didn't know if she was still in shock, or if it was so funny because it was something so trivial to feel uncomfortable about after everything that had happened. Sam glanced at her, not missing a step, and started laughing too. "Sorry", he said anyway. She just shook her head and chuckled, "No, I just wanted to find you all again, say thank you for saving us. My bonehead of a boyfriend still won't believe what he saw was really a ghost, and there is no way we would have guessed salt could save us." She laughed at the absurdity of it all.

He just nodded, "It's really no big deal." He said, as they found the cafeteria doors. They separated to get their own food. She grabbed a salad, not really wanting to eat any meat that they were serving in the hospital, and met him at the checkout line. After paying they sat down at a table with their food. They quickly discovered that the table wobbled badly, but were both too exhausted to go searching for a better one.

Aly couldn't quite get herself to eat even the salad still covered in blood and remembering eating smores not long before Manda died. Just thinking about the mushy white sugar loaded marshmallows she felt sick and pushed the salad away all together. Sam noticed, still scarfing down the chicken he bought. He finished the bite he was chewing on, and then said, "Are you ok?"

She nodded her head, playing with her fingers, then thought about it and shook her head, "No. I can't let it go, what we saw tonight. Daniel is more than happy to forget it all happened, but I just can't let you leave here without knowing what that was. And I saw that man, with the freaky eyes. I just need to know what exactly is going on; if there is more of that out there. It's not like I can talk to anyone else about what happened. No one would believe me. Not even my own boyfriend."


	11. Chapter 11

Ch. 11

Sorry this one is kinda slow, but there will be more action in the future, I promise!

…..

Sam looked up over his chicken, and then dropped it back in the paper boat they had served it in, pushing it forward next to her uneaten salad. He crossed his arms and placed them in the space he had just created, leaning forward slightly with a sigh, "You want to know what happened tonight?" he asked, stalling for time. He wasn't sure what to do. She was asking about hunting, wasn't she? It was a Winchester rule, not to draw attention to yourself, and not to talk about hunting. But at this point, wasn't it a little ridiculous to lie. Hadn't she seen enough?

Sam stared back at Aly, who waited patiently, leaning back in her chair, eyebrows slightly raised. He felt trapped. Aly seemed to notice his reluctance, "Please. I don't even need that much of an explanation, just enough to keep myself safe, and keep my friends and family from meeting the same end my friends met tonight." That struck a chord with Sam. Isn't that exactly why they were in this business? His dad had seen too much, his family was threatened, and so John had gone forward with the knowledge to keep his family safe. And in the process ruined Sam's childhood. He never felt completely safe. They couldn't even sleep in a motel room without having to salt every window and door. That alone made Sam not want to say anything, but the longer he sat there the more he felt himself giving up. Aly wasn't a child who could be forced into hunting, and she didn't have authority to drag her family into it, even if they didn't stick her in a loony bin first. She just wanted to know if there was a chance of this ever happening again. What was the harm of knowing about salt? He had witnessed his dad telling victims of supernatural assault about the supernatural, only as a last resort of course. Sam would label this as a last resort, and really what would it change. John was already angry with him.

Aly stared back at Sam with pleading eyes, wisps of blonde hair escaping from her ponytail. Sam let go of the breath he was holding, "Ok." He finally said. She sat up straighter, smiling like she hadn't really expected him to spare her the time. "But technically I'm not supposed to…"

"According to your dad?" Aly asked, and Sam nodded, "Don't worry, what he doesn't knows can't hurt him, and it definitely can't hurt to tell me."

"Ok, thanks," Sam said, "But while we are in the process of lying to him, can we keep this from Dean as well. Just in case you run into him sometime before we all split up. He won't blow a gasket like my dad, but…" he let the sentence, not really knowing why he didn't want Dean to know. It made him feel a little guilty, not telling Dean anything. He always trusted his big brother, but lately things have just felt too big, too overwhelming. There was college first, then the dreams, and now he was going to talk to a stranger about hunting.

"Technically we aren't lying," she said, "Just not telling."

Sam thought about how to start, but there were too many beginning points. He could talk about the ghost, or the demon, or why they were out there, how they knew, why they hunted. He just dived in, hoping to get this all over with.

"Ok, so you're on board with the ghost, right?"

Aly raised one eyebrow in question, "You mean did I believe in ghosts? No. Do I believe what I saw was a ghost? Yes, but I still can't believe it. "

"Ghosts are really just vengeful spirits. They died, and still had unfinished business, or something tying them to earth. They aren't all bad... at first, but over time they begin to lose their humanity. They become violent. We search for multiple strange deaths in the newspapers and internet, and in library records, and then go investigate. Some time it's nothing more than your average serial killer, sometimes it's some other supernatural creature, but more times than not it's a ghost rather than any other type of creature."

Aly stared at him, and he could see her thinking about all of that information, trying to take it all in, accept what he was telling her. "So you guys…"

Sam, feeling a little antsy, finished her sentence, "We hunt monsters," he said bluntly, then cringed looking around him. An elderly lady sitting two tables down, gawked back at him, her hand shaking so bad her coffee was spilling over the edges of the coffee cup she held. It unnerved him that he was the first to look away. He looked back at Aly who took that news a lot better than he had expected, but then she had held it together very well today through the ghost slaughter, and random demonic presence. She folded her hands, locking her fingers together on the table, and gazed off at nothing thinking, "What kinds of monsters?" she finally asked, leveling her gaze at him.

Sam had to chuckle slightly sarcastic, "Oh where to begin. Well there are ghosts, the easiest of the bunch. A simple salt and burn will do. Then there are Wendigo, which we were hunting tonight before I had a run in with the spirit. They usually have some disgusting pit somewhere, like a cave where they bring their food- us. They can imitate any human voice, making them difficult to hunt. You'd hear your hunting partner yelling somewhere and thoughtlessly run straight into its trap. They take fire to kill; flare guns. Then there are ghouls, which are kind of like spirits only solid, and they eat human blood. They you have to decapitate. Vampires and Werewolves supposedly were once much more frequent, but are less so now. Werewolves are killed with silver bullets through the heart. Vampires are said to be gone completely but a family friend says we shouldn't be so sure. Shapeshifters are rare but we have hunted one before. There are others, some we probably don't even know about yet. But those are the garden variety. Its demon's that my dad is obsessed with. They have more brains, are typically manipulative. My dad has this quote that he always goes by, 'Demon's lie', and they are much more powerful. You can't really kill them either. You have to exercise them back to hell, usually with a demon's trap, and Latin. Dad doesn't let us on those hunts. He hunts alone for those, or with family friends."

Aly was quiet for a second, her eyes slightly bugged like he had just told her there was a bomb in the hospital or something. He was starting to worry he had said too much, when she finally snapped out of it, "Ok, Demons. Right, well that's going to take some time to sink in. Two questions: What does "salt and burn" entail, and when you say family friends you mean hunters, right? So there are more of you out there?"

Sam gulped down some of his coke, holding up a finger indicating for her to wait a moment, "Salt and burn- we have to research where the spirit's body was buried and then dig it up, throw salt on the bones, and then set fire to them." Aly shuddered, just thinking about it. "We bring rocksalt guns just in case the ghost appears and tries to stop us, and sometimes the body was cremated, while the spirit still exists. In that situation, there is usually some object, or left out bone somewhere that is tying them down. We find it and burn it. "

Aly wrapped an arm around herself, "That sounds absolutely horrifying." Sam wasn't going to deny that, so he just nodded again and looked around him. The only lady still sat in her chair, but was no longer staring, thank god, and other than her, the cafeteria was thankfully empty. Aly's voice brought him back around to look at her.

"So that girl, the ghost, at the park. Is she… gone?" she asked.

"I'm not sure. Dad probably has more information about all that. That guy that showed up was a demon. I've never seen one extinguish a ghost like that. I can only imagine how strong it was."

Sam held in his own shudder. He didn't want to admit how freaked out he was now, knowing the whole time it had been in his nightmares. "And yes, we have quite a few hunting friends."

"Are you guys going to be sticking around here? Or are you moving on?" She asked.

"I don't really know." Sam admitted, "Our dad usually has his own agenda. I'm pretty sure we are staying though. I can't imagine him letting go of a demon sighting, or letting the ghost go that way, without being sure it's gone."

"Um... I don't mean to be a pest or anything, but it would put my mind to rest if I had your phone number. Do you have a cell phone?" She asked already pulling out her own.

"No. I mean I do, but it's only for emergencies. I can give the number to you, but again only for emergencies. I'll put your number in my phone, and then when we get to whatever hotel or motel we are staying at, I'll use the phone there to call you so you have the number to where we are staying and can reach us if you want."

They exchanged phone numbers, and while doing so Sam noticed the time on her phone. He hadn't realized how long they had been sitting there. It was almost 7 in the morning. Dean was most likely awake and asking to get out of there. He hurriedly threw all their trash away, grabbing his crutches where they rested against the table, and then hesitated before extending a hand out to her intending to shake her hand, but Aly pulled him into a quick hug. She backed up a step looking slightly embarrassed. "Again, thank you." She said, before walking out of the cafeteria, going the opposite direction to Dean's room.


	12. Chapter 12

Ch. 12

When Sam got back to the hospital room, Dean was awake, and a little loopy on drugs, while John was fuming as he paced up and down rubbing his temples. Dean chuckled staring at something in front of him. Sam raised an eyebrow amused. Either Dean was seeing something that wasn't there, or there was something extremely funny about the wooden cabinet on the wall across from him. Or perhaps he was thinking about something that struck him as humorous. _I guess that means his head injury isn't too bad, _he thought, feeling less guilty knowing Dean wasn't feeling any pain at the moment. John glanced up at the clunk of Sam's cast and crutches, and let out an exasperated sigh, "There you are! Come on. We're leaving."

Just then, a nurse came bustling into the little room wheeling a wheelchair in front of her. She gave a small noise of surprise when she nearly ran Sam over, where he stood in the middle of the entrance. After he hurried out of her way, they slowly got Dean into the wheelchair. His big brother was acting quite childish, but drugs did that too him. Sam stifled a laugh when Dean tried to grab the swinging lanyard where it swung in front of his face from the nurse's neck. John finally had enough and quickly but gently grabbed Dean's arm and lowered it.

Dean fell asleep in the wheelchair on the way to the parking lot, and the nurse warned once more to make sure Dean didn't move around much in the next couple weeks. Besides the stitches on the outside, and the blood loss and head injury he was still recovering from, the knife had cut through muscle as well, and he would be sore for a while.

The drive to the closest motel was quiet, other than the loud snores coming from the backseat. Sam could tell his dad was still really mad about the hunt and the demon. Just being in the same space as John, at the moment, was enough to rub that anger back onto Sam. It was uncomfortable and the air felt thick with tension. While Sam was glad that they weren't talking, because he didn't want to deal with any more accusations just yet, he kind of wished they'd just start the inevitable fight and get it over with. John was usually a very surly person, especially when it came to his youngest son it seemed, but Sam felt he was being a little unreasonable over this hunt. It had something to do with the demon.

When they pulled up to the Dayside Motel, John got out of the car, telling Sam to, "try getting him on his feet," him being Dean, before he went inside to get their room key. Sam dragged himself from the front seat, unfolding his long legs being careful of the bulky dark cast, and feeling like he had just sprinted ten miles. He was exhausted and felt he could sleep for a week. Balancing on his one foot, he went for the crutches that were leaning behind his chair, getting irrationally irritable when the handle got stuck on the window crank, and yanked them the rest of the way out with excessive force, causing the knob they were stuck on to unwind and roll the window half way down with a earsplitting shriek.

Sam froze when Dean jerked awake, and groggily stared up accusingly at his younger brother, who looked back at him guiltily as if he were a kid who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"S'mmm, you bedder nut hurt my car…" Dean managed to get out before laying his head back down on the seat and resuming his snoring as if he hadn't been interrupted. Sam jumped into action, crutching around to open the back seat, "No no, Dean. Time to get up." He tapped Dean's cheek carefully, "Come on, man. We're here... at the motel." Dean woke up again to glare at Sam before slapping the hand out of his face, and then closed his eyes again. "No, Dean. Don't go back to sleep!" Sam wanted to grab Dean under the arms and wrestle him out of the car, but didn't know if sitting him up would hurt his chest. It was better if Dean got out himself. Luckily after a few more soft slaps to the face, Dean finally got pissed enough to get out of the car, claiming he was only getting up to get away from Sam. Sam helped as much as he could with a cast, but ended up leaning Dean against the car to get the bags out of the trunk, assuming John would help him the rest of the way.

Once they scrambled into the room, throwing things on the ground before the door too tired to care, John made sure Dean was all good sleeping on the middle bed before collapsing on his own. Sam was asleep before his head hit his pillow, not even bothering to change out of his dirty clothes.

….

When Sam next woke, sunlight was streaming in through the window. He groaned, stretching out on his bed, joints cracking, and wrapped his arms around the pillow to bury his head. He frowned. Hadn't they fallen asleep in the morning? How was the sun still out. He was sure he'd sleep like the dead last night, but it was still light out. He caught a whiff of coffee brewing, and reluctantly sat up, rubbing his eyes, then looking down in horror at his clothes. He had some blood on his shirt still, and he really needed a shower.

Sam looked around, expecting to find John at the kitchenette area making coffee half awake, but was shocked to see Dean's back turned toward him where he stood hunched over fiddling with the coffee pot, before shuffling towards the small table. "Dean! What are you doing up? You're…"

"Shhh!" Dean pointed at John. Sam turned to look. His dad was laying on his back with his mouth hanging open, out cold. Sam rolled his eyes. Of course Dean didn't want to wake him up. John would tell him to get back in bed. Sam decided to humor him… for a couple of minutes only, and as long as he kept in the chair.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked, fighting with the blankets to get out of bed, nearly falling on his face when his foot caught. Dean laughed. "Oh shut up." Sam shot back good naturedly, and then continued to the table without the crutches, hopping the short distance to the chair. His foot gave a sharp stab of pain, but he ignored it for the moment. His pain meds were in one of the duffles, but he didn't want to worry about that right now.

"I should ask you that," Dean ignored the question, and waved a lethargic hand at the black cast, "When did that even happen?" he asked incredulously, "Did the ghost throw you into a tree or something."

Sam shook his head, and Dean gave him a curious look. "Fine." Sam finally huffed, "I rolled it. Running." Dean was obviously trying not to laugh, "Of course." He deadpanned seriously, like there was no other way to break an ankle. "God that was a strange messed up hunt." He continued, "For a moment before the ghost stabbed me I could have sworn I saw someone standing behind dad. I'm guessing it was my version of 'your life flashing before your eyes', because his eyes were yellow." Dean shook his head in disbelief.

"Um... Dean," Sam said, "that wasn't a hallucination. There really was a guy who showed up. Only it wasn't a man. It was a demon with yellow eyes instead of black."

Dean's head snapped up at that, "What? Really!?" Sam narrowed his eyes confused. It sounded like his brother was excited at this news. They didn't normally ever see a demon. John refused to bring Dean or Sam on a demon hunt. From Dean's voice you'd think he wanted to hunt one. Sam would never understand Dean and his dad. Why would you want to go after something with so much power? "Wow," Dean whispered, then laughed, "It's like the beginning of a bad joke. A demon, shape-shifter, and ghost all walk into a bar…"

"Dean!"

Dean and Sam both jumped at John's angry voice. He lumbered around the kitchen corner like a bear who woke from hibernation too soon, "What are you doing up!?"

Dean, "Awww"ed but didn't argue. John was at his side the minute Dean made to get up. As he helped him back to bed, John past the coffee maker, and breathed in the rich smell of coffee, and shot an accusing look at Dean, "Did you make coffee?"

Dean eyed him, " yes," He drawled out.

"You shouldn't have any, especially after that head injury. You know that." John admonished, all but shoving his elder son back into bed. Dean's face was comical.

"Oh come on!" he whined. But again where Sam would have fought rigorously to get his way, Dean sighed giving up at the sharp look John shot at him. "I feel fine." He grumbled. John laughed and nodded his head as if he believed that was so, "Ok, Dean. Whatever you say. Just drink water first please. A lot of water." John moved around to his unmade bed, and fell back onto it, "Boys, I think we should talk about this last hunt, real quick." _Here it goes, _Sam thought dragging his feet to the foot of Dean's bed and sat staring wearily across the space at his dad. He couldn't tell if this was the "yell at Sam" talk, or the yellow eyed demon explanation. He was hoping for the second choice.

Once they were settled and John had both their attention he asked, "You both know the thing that killed your mother was a demon, right?" He looked up at them from beneath his lowered brow, waiting for them both to nod. Sam saw Dean's hands fold into fists against the motel sheets. John was quiet for a moment, eyeing Dean's face and hesitating slightly, as if worried about how his news, whatever it was, would affect the middle Winchester. Sam was a little worried at his father's reaction to his brother's. Obviously this was something big, and that night had always been a touchy subject for Dean.

It was quiet for a moment before John continued, "That demon we ran into last night." He said, "I'm nearly 100% percent positive that he was the one." Sam's eyes widened. "_What?" _he shouted, standing up, "And you're just telling me this now!" Sam's reaction shocked them both, but Dean barely gave him a glance, before snapping straight up where he sat, eyes wide, face flushing of all color. He looked like he'd seen a ghost. "How?" he whispered.

John looked down and around the room, looking guilty in Sam's opinion, "You've been hunting it on your own all this time haven't you?" he asked angrily. While both he and Dean had always known why they'd been shoved into this life, and they had both anticipated John's search of the monster, you'd think their father would have told them if he'd found something. _But no!_ Sam glared at John's shoe, _He dangerously goes hunting alone after the thing that killed their mother, telling no one what he was doing, and putting his life at risk with no thought of his sons. _

"Dad?" Dean gasped staring in almost horror at John, and when he didn't answer right away asked, "How long have you known?"

"I've been hunting the yellow eyed demon for about 3 years now." Was all he said in answer.

"God Damnit!" Dean shouted and struggled to get out of bed, "You didn't think I'd want to know! Or Sam? What is your problem! You could be killed by the same thing that killed mom, and we would have never known! And you say Sam's selfish! Jeez." He yelled trying to tower above them even though he hunched over his injury, one hand in his short hair and the other arm wrapped around his stomach. "What's changed then? Why are you telling us now?" Sam got up, and grabbed Dean's arm trying to force him back to bed, but Dean shrugged him off still angry. Sam knew he was more scared than angry; scared of losing his father to the same thing that took their mother.

"Now, it's come to me, instead of the other way around. It has seen you and Sam, and since it knows by now I want it dead there is no telling what it may do next." Dean shook his head in disbelief, before scoffing. Sam agreed. Of course John would proceed with cautious only now that his sons were involved, but alone he recklessly and selfishly puts himself on the line. All to avenge a wife, who has been dead nearly 18 years. "There's that." And Sam could tell what he was going to bring up next because the man directed his attention away from Dean, to glance at Sam, "And Sam has been seeing the guy the demon is dressed in, in various places close to us." Dean snapped around to stare at Sam. Sam didn't know what to say, so he just nodded and shrugged. "Crap Sam, even if it wasn't a demon, a creepy guy repetitively appearing should have been enough a notice that something wasn't right. And everyone believes you're so smart." Dean fumed silently, "You're no better than him!" he said shoving a thumb at John before hobbling to the bathroom to get away for awhile. A few seconds later they could hear the shower start.

Sam took great offense to being compared to the pig headed elder Winchester, but the hurt caused by his brother's angry comments was only second in importance. He still needed to bring up the visions to Dean. He was dreading that conversation. He sighed dragging himself to his feet. Time to call Aly so she had the motel's number.

…

Aly had gotten out of bed about four hours ago, but she still felt bone tired. No matter how much she turned, kicked, or tried to fall back asleep it just wasn't going to happen. The sun was up stabbing at her eyes through the blinds and after the horrifying nightmares she didn't really want to anyway. She was on her third cup of coffee, when her phone started barking. She jumped, forgetting that she had changed that to her ringtone, and then laughed at herself. Every little thing, whether it be an odd shadow or noise, or her cat jumping off the couch, startled her since she got home. Her parents had both gone to work after she'd assured them she would be ok for the 10th time that morning. They were both shocked at what had happened.

"Hello?" She asked.

"Aly? This is Sam."

"Oh hi Sam! Why're you calling? Is Dean ok?"

"Oh yeah. He's more than ok. I woke up this morning to him attempting to get coffee. I'm calling with the room phone. Remember? I said I would call you on the motel phone, so you could save the number."

"Oh right. Yeah thanks. It's been a little spastic since I got home. I didn't sleep well." She rolled her eyes at herself. She was babbling. Why would he care if she slept?

"Sorry to hear that. I usually go for walks or runs when I can't sleep, but I think since this hunt my dad's not going to let me out of his sight." She heard him sigh. He sounded worn out.

"Hang in there." She sympathized.

"You too."

They said bye and hung up. She sighed as she set her phone on the table beside her. She felt this overwhelming pull to go talk to that family some more, but she got the feeling showing up at their room was not a good idea.

"Who was that?" Aly gasped at her brother's familiar voice as he appeared at the bottom of the stairs. She put a hand over her heart trying to calm herself down. At this rate she worried she'd become one of those paranoid recluses who holed themselves up in their houses and trusted nothing and no one. "No one." She said.


	13. Chapter 13

Ch. 13

Sam nervously crutched back into the "living room" area of the motel room. Dean was leaning against the headboard staring at the ceiling. He looked completely bored. Their dad was out registering Sam for school; if they were going to stay then they might as well keep up appearances in John's opinion. Sam wasn't complaining, even if his reason for wanting to go to school conflicted with John's reasoning. Sam liked school, another issue weighing on his mind.

He resumed his seat at the end of Dean's bed, gaining his brother's attention, "How are you doing?"

Dean rolled his eyes, "I'm fine. Want some damn coffee, but I'm fine." It was 2 in the afternoon and Dean still wanted coffee.

"Look. I have something I want to tell you," Dean furrowed his eyes at him from where he slumped, "But you have to promise not to freak out. At least until I finish talking." Sam held up both hands in a placating matter at Dean's alarmed expression. Sam knew what he had to be thinking. Great. More bad news. This might not go over as well as he hoped.

"You know when dad said I had been seeing the demon around?" In hindsight, maybe he shouldn't have asked that question. Of course he remembered. He even opened his mouth with a glare in Sam's direction ready to spout an angry lecture at the reminder.

"Hey! I said no freaking!" Dean's glare remained but he shut his mouth, folding his arms delicately across his chest. The action was supposed to look pissed and intimidating, but it only came off as miserable when he winced and held his arms above his shirt.

"Ok," Sam hesitated, "That wasn't entirely the truth." He glanced around the room a moment, "I've been having nightmares... Well no not nightmares, exactly. Look the only way I can describe it … I've been having visions." The word came out of his mouth like a clump of lint, awkward and ridiculous.

Dean was staring up at him, head tilted to one side, eyes slanting up at him in a borderline pissed kind of way, eyebrows furrowed, mouth slightly agape. Sam had the fleeting humorous thought that Dean always looked about ready to explode, even if he didn't. Maybe it was his brother trying to be intimidating, or maybe it was just Dean's way of always being ready for more bad news. "What are you saying Sam?" he asked gruffly.

"Visions, Dean! Visions. I've been having these dreams for a while now, and they always just seemed like your average nightmare, except… except the demon was always there. And recently, like in the past week Id been dreaming of you dying..."

"What?" Dean interrupted, sounding incredulous, "Why didn't you say you've been having nightmares Sam? I've been wondering why you've looked so tired…"

"They aren't nightmares!" Sam shouted, "It was the same injuries! Knife wound, head injury, only a lot worse." Sam shuddered, and paced away from the bed in thought. He could tell by the concerned expression that Dean wasn't entirely on board with this. As long as he knew, Sam guessed that was enough for now.

"If you really believe you can now see the future, Sam, then we need to tell dad."

"No!" Sam whirled around. Dean froze looking taken aback, "No. Not yet, please. He's already pissed at me enough at the moment. Just let me get to it ok."

Dean looked a bit suspicious, but he wasn't taking it seriously. He was acting too casual, like he was only humoring his younger brother. Sam was pretty sure Dean would be at least a little bit furious if he actually believed him.

…

That Monday Aly was back at school, despite her parent's insistence that she take some time to get over her "ordeal", in their words. She had too much on her mind to stay home. Both her mom and dad had work, so she would have been home alone, and the thought made her jumpy. What if the demon or the ghost or some other creature came out of the dark and into the sunlit atmosphere of the kitchen, or maybe there was such a thing as the monster in the closet. Maybe there always had been such a thing. Her world had fallen apart in just one night. Her parents were supposed to yell at her, ground her for being out there camping with a boy in the first place, when she had told them she was over at Manda's. Aly's eyes teared up as just then she walked past the small Rest in Peace table the school had set up, past the pictures of her deceased friends, and towards her first class, thinking. No, her parents had been acting as if she were a delicate glass figurine that would fall apart at one wrong word, her boyfriend was no longer talking to her, heck Daniel wouldn't even acknowledge her, and now vampires and werewolves had leapt from their places from fairy tales and TV screens, and it seemed there was now something lurking within every shadow she passed. Entering the physics classroom, she faltered in the doorway as every student there turned in their seat to stare at her. The more self aware of the group had the decency to look away after their first glimpse but the quick twitch of their eyes in the opposite direction made it all the more obvious she was on their minds. And now her classmates all wanted to know what happened, no doubt, in every gory detail. The bloodier the better. And perhaps some hoped to place the blame on her shoulders, just so there was something to gossip about to make life seem more exciting.

She ducked her head and sat in the first empty seat she found. She heard someone giggle in the very back; a bout of nervous laughter perhaps. Who would laugh at a time like this? She thought in disgust.

Aly got through the first half of the day, through all the attention and whispers, and "condolences", and hadn't heard a word of it. That was probably how she hadn't heard any of the secondary gossip floating around, about the new kid. Not feeling up to finding Daniel and his friends at lunch, she went in search of her twin brother. She was therefore surprised at who she saw sitting with Steven.

…

Sam held the ice pack to his face as he sat down at the cafeteria table, having been dragged there by Steven, who had witnessed the entire fight and apparently had been rooting against the other guy. Sam groaned putting his forehead on his arms resting against the cool table. He hadn't meant to get in a fist fight, he hadn't thrown the first punch, and he was lucky that teacher had walked past in time to see the beefy football player hit him. The man's frantic cries to stop the madness were the only thing that stopped Sam from retaliating and getting in trouble himself. He hoped they wouldn't call his dad.

His new friend stopped talking to dig in his back for his lunch, and in the relative quiet at the small round table, in comparison to the noisy cafeteria anyway, he was aware of someone approaching.

"Aly! Hey! Oh my gosh, you should have seen this guy. Already insulted Craig and got him sent to the office on his first day here!" Steven was all but yelling.

Sam jerked his head up. He knew she was here. It was all by chance that his dad had placed him in her high school but what were the chances he was sitting at her lunch table. But there she was.

"Sam this is my twin sister, Aly."


	14. Chapter 14

Thank you to anyone who followed or reviewed. It makes me happy.

Ch.14

…..

"Sam!" She cried in surprise, and let out a breath as if relieved he was there, as opposed to worried he was stalking her, "Oh my god! What happened to you?" She swept around the table to the chair next to his, and made a grab for his face.

"Nothing, nothing. It's nothing; just a misunderstanding." Sam said, trying to avoid her flying hands.

Steven scoffed, "That's an understatement," he said, gulping down some Gatorade, "So I take it you've met." Sam almost laughed at how disappointed he sounded. No doubt his new friend had wanted to be the first to meet the new kid. Sibling rivalry, Sam understood it.

"Yea!" Aly smiled, and Sam noted the slightly suspicious look Steven gave his sister, "He was the…"

"I ran into her at the store, like literally, knocked over a stack of canned beans and everything. Sam crossed his fingers under the table, mentally trying to bypass this part of the conversation. He hated lying to everyone at school. Aly was staring at him in slight shock, oblivious to Steven whose eyes pinged back and forth between them. It was ok if he was suspicious, just as long as he didn't know. There was no telling what he would do with such information, and what those he told would do.

Steven opened his mouth, and Sam anticipated having to delicately talk his way around the fact that Aly hadn't been to the store in a month, or that there wasn't a tower of beans to knock over, but before the words could leave his mouth, someone came sliding noisily into the seat across from Sam, "Man! I am starving!" was all the new arrival said. Aly rolled her eyes, and stabbed at her food with a plastic fork. The guy was ridiculous thin, with wild curly brown hair, and a track T-shirt on with a hole in the armpit. He quickly pulled out four ham and cheese sandwiches, a bag of barbecue potato chips, and a plastic tub of chocolate cake, unwrapped a sandwich and stuffed about half of it into his mouth. He was closely followed by two other guys and a girl with bright flaming red hair. They were a little more aware of Sam, but took the available seats. Aly groaned suddenly beside Sam, "Ollie, please close your mouth. I don't want to see that." She leant her head forward over her food, perhaps protecting it from any wayward ham that could spray from Ollie's mouth, "She elbowed her brother on the other side of her, in the ribs. "Ow! What was that for!?" he yelled. She didn't dignify that with a response, but suddenly seemed a lot more quiet and downcast. Sam eyed the back of her head curiously. Ollie, or whoever was chewing raucously from the other side of the round table, pointed a lazy finger at Sam, who tilted his head back in question, and spoke at the precise moment he swallowed, "Whose this?" he said to no one in particular.

"This…"Steven said, sounding the voice of reason, and reaching an arm around his sister to awkwardly pat Sam on the back, "is Sam, everybody."

After that, Sam carefully steered the conversation away from what had happened that weekend, and soon they were filling him in on the small town, talking about the school, and making fun of the lump of mysterious meat on Sam's tray, that he hadn't touched. He learned the girl was Jessica, the tall guy with long blonde hair was Dalton, and the quiet darker skinned guy was Jason. They were a strange mix of band geek, artist, track runner, and Aly who apparently didn't sit with them regularly. She didn't elaborate on why today was different, but Sam could guess. They lived close together, and that seemed to be what brought them together.

When the bell rang, Sam found himself surprised to be laughing along with them; it was an easy going group, and they didn't care to talk much about the camp-out killings. Sam had heard enough throughout the day to know that the majority of the student body was making up their own versions of what happened, some even going as far as saying Aly killed her best friends.

As they were throwing their trash and leftover food away or packing things back into back packs, Daniel had somehow battled his way through the surging crowd of dispersing lunch-goers. Sam was the first to notice him standing there scowling, and the others quickly turned their attention to what was going on when Daniel stepped up to Aly, glaring at Sam over her shoulder, and yelled over the chaotic clamor that he needed to talk to her.

Sam wanted to follow them, and find out what was so important, but Jessica had begun to drag him away, chattering in his ear about how he'd really pissed Daniel off by getting his buddy in trouble. Daniel was friends with Craig. Only Sam and Aly knew that getting Craig sent to the office wasn't the only or even main reason for Daniel's antipathy. He followed the rest of them through a small side hallway that was less crowded.

"So what's your next class?" Jason asked him, and they all stopped walking, letting the stream of teenagers course around them, and ignoring the people who weren't shy about letting their irritation be known. Ollie leaned against the tiled wall still finishing the last of his potato chips happily, and Daniel was a little preoccupied with his cell phone, but Jessica and Dalton both took a look at his schedule.

"Holy crap! You're taking Calculus?" Jason asked.

"So?" Dalton grabbed the yellow sheet, "I am too. What class?"

"Yeah, but are you also taking advanced economics, and advanced physics?" Jason asked him argumentatively, both eyebrows raised.

"The AP physics, yes. Not the economics." Dalton stated in distaste, handing Sam back his schedule, "And we are in the same Calc."

"Here, let me see. I'm in AP economics." Jessica said, pushing her way between them.

"You are?" Dalton asked shocked, "How did we not know that?"

"I knew it!" called Steven from the behind Sam, still looking down at his phone.

Jessica ignored them, and quickly scanned the sheet, "Man!" she muttered, "AP English, and Spanish 4. I'm impressed. But you're only in a PE class…"

"With me!" Jason interrupted her.

"… and I heard that English with Mrs. Stepanek, is ridiculously easy and that all they do in there is watch movies, and work on a scrapbook, with the occasional essay thrown in."

Dalton scoffed, "From whom?"

"My sister, idiot. She graduated last year, and she took AP English."

"Oh," he looked down at his shoe for a second, "Why didn't I take that class? An extra easy A in an advanced class would've looked great on my transcript."

"Oh please, you wouldn't have made an A in that class." She laughed jokingly, "You suck at English. It has no math in it." He shoved her shoulder. Sam laughed.

"I'm in your economics class, but I don't think anyone is in your Physics or English class with you."

"And there you'd be wrong." Ollie joined them, stuffing the ziplock bag into his jacket pocket, "Aly has English with Stepanek."

Sam frowned at him, "How do you know that?"

Steven, seemingly still speaking to his phone, spoke up, "Look who you're talking too." That just made Sam more confused, but then Jessica wrapped an arm around the skinny guys shoulder, "This one," she said ruffling Ollie's hair to his indignation, "has had a crush on Aly since middle school." As if that explained everything, "We should go."

They walked the rest of the way through the little hallway, and by then most everyone had gotten to class making it much less crowded, and even more so when the narrow passage opened up into a larger corridor that ran straight down the middle of the school, like going from a vein into a major artery. Smaller hallways were cut into the walls on either side, symmetrical and equidistant. The classrooms inside were like capillaries.

They each split up, going in separate directions to their next class, except Dalton and Ollie who were both on their way to their regular economics class. The rest of the day dragged on, a little stressful to Sam who had other things on his mind, boring to Dalton who only had non math related classes left, distracting to Jessica who was trying to finish the sketch she'd been working on for the past couple days, and tiresome to rest of them, especially Ollie who started to get hungry again by 7th period. Sam walked into his second to last class, and immediately spotted Aly who had her head down on the table. He quietly walked up to the desk next to hers and dropped into the seat. The ridiculous invention creaked loudly wobbling on a loose screw. Whose idea was it to attach chairs to desks? It was majorly uncomfortable. Aly looked up suddenly at the noise, her eyes were red, and she looked like she would rather be anywhere but there, probably regretting coming to school at all. She looked like she'd been crying. "What's wrong?" Sam asked leaning towards her.

Aly shook her head, "Daniel broke up with me." She put her head back down on her arms. Sam didn't know what to say. "It's just been a bad day." She said into her sleeve, the material muffling her voice slightly, so Sam had to lean closer to understand her. He cautiously put his hand on her back, patting her shoulder. It was better than just sitting there like an idiot. "I'm sorry." He said.

About that moment Mrs. Stepanek walked in with a pile of manila folders, papers falling out, hanging precariously, about to flutter to the floor, by a single corner. She sighed in a purposeful way, blowing strands of brown hair off her glasses, "Ok guys, in light of recent events, and the amount of work I need to finish, what movie would you like to watch today?"

….

At the end of the school day, Sam walked out of the PE locker room with Jason close on his tail, "Why are you not in track?" he asked. They had been running on the track outside today, and Sam had more fun than he was willing to admit running the piece of cake two miles. "Ollie could talk to the track coach and even if they weren't doing tryouts, the moment that coach hears about or sees you run, he's going to want you on that team."

"I can't." Sam said, "I got a lot on my plate at the moment." He shrugged nonchalantly.

Jason whistled, "No kidding man. Is there anything you're not good at?"

Sam ducked his head, feeling uncomfortable with all the praise. Yes there was something he was not good at and unfortunately that something was the only thing his dad cared about- hunting. "I can't sing." He said jokingly. Jason laughed and showed him where they usually met up after school. They all lived close by and in the same general area, so they walked as a group.

"Hey, Sam! Jace!" They heard Steven yelling before they saw him; standing beside a trash can next to the football field at the back of the school building. They could see Ollie running and yelling away from a small bug that looked like it could be a bee, and Jessica laughing hysterically at the high pitch terrified sounds coming out of his mouth. "Oh my gosh. He is an idiot." Jason laughed. They quickly caught up, standing on the sidewalk alongside the stretch of parking lot and the line of cars there waiting on their owners children. Aly stood a little away from the rest of them staring sullenly at the ground.

"You won't believe it! Craig got put in In School Suspension for hitting you!" Steven yelled excitedly. Anyone witnessing the gigantic smile stretching across his face would have believed it was Christmas. The roar of an engine caught all their attention, and Sam closed his eyes. He'd know that sound anywhere. Great. He hoped Dean didn't purposely try to embarrass him this time. Steven turned along with them; the smile still on his face as Dean pulled up next to their spot on the sidewalk, and leaned across the stick shift to look up at them from beneath furrowed eyebrows out the opened window.

"Wow, dude. Nice car." Dalton said. Dean looked at the group of mismatched kids Sam had become friends with.

"Hey Dean." Sam said, opening the back seat door to throw his back pack in. He stepped back, and then snorted, "You look ridiculous."

Dean grimaced and poked at the white bandage that was only half plastered to his temple, the other half sticking out away from his hair, "Dad's forcing me to keep it on. These your friends?"

"And yet he's letting you drive?" Sam shook his head. He quickly pointed each of them out, and was surprised when Aly became momentarily animated from her funk to tell him where she worked and if he wanted to come and hang out at the café, her boss wouldn't mind. When Sam got in the car, Dean pulled out of the parking lot, then said, "Guess what?"

"Dad's pissed at me?" Sam guessed.

Dean nodded, "Yep. But that's not all of it."

Sam looked over at him, "He thinks he's found something."

Sam could tell by the way it was said, that whatever Dad had decided he'd discovered wasn't something his brother was too happy about.


	15. Chapter 15

**I felt really stupid for forgetting Sam had a cast on so I edited the chapter and now it's a bit longer.**

**I'm not sure if most people are seriously bored with this story by now, but I decided I'm going to finish it anyway. There is more action coming up.**

Ch. 15

Sam watched his father stalk back in forth spastically in front of them. Dean stood stubbornly despite his injuries, slightly behind Sam where he slouched on the bed.

"Psychics!" John nearly yelled, "The Demon is involved with psychics. I'm not sure why or of the specifics but Bobby has dug up some information…" John was sure he was on to something. Sam was shocked. No way could he tell his dad now! This was much worse than Dean had let on in the car.

"Dad are you sure…" Damage control.

"Yes, I'm sure Sam. Why are you questioning me?"

Sam quietly muttered a "I'm not", sure his father heard him, but was too busy stalking back and forth rubbing a fist under his chin, "Now I'm not sure how many there are but we should start hunting them along with the demon. And Sam you better tell me if you see it around this time, you got me?" he growled at his youngest, before barking orders. Dean, who was sent to the library to do research, gave Sam a pointed suspicious look before getting everything to leave. Having nothing he wanted Sam to do to help, John sent Sam out on a run to "keep in shape", before glancing down at the bulky cast on Sam's leg. "I mean…" John hesitated, casting about for something Sam to do.

Sam made it easy for him, "I'll just go study somewhere." He said with a hint of bitterness behind his tone, but turning away before his dad could really catch on. Sam really didn't mind considering any help he contributed would help his own father hunt Sam down like the vile despicable murdering creatures they hunted on a day to day basis, but he still felt the same hurt he pushed down every time his father sent him out to "train" instead of help. He could feel John's eyes lingering on his back as he gathered up his backpack and books before following Dean out the door. You're not good enough for him, Sam thought to himself catching up to Dean after slamming the door behind him, you'll no doubt screw up something in his eyes. He rolled his eyes at himself, irritated with himself that it got to him so much, and carefully crutched himself over the gravelly parking lot to the passenger side of the Impala.

"Hey!" he called getting Dean's attention, "I'm going with you. Can you drop me off down town? There is a coffee shop there. I'm going to get caught up on some assignments."

It was about five minutes to the small town's center, where all four stories of the ancient court house stood tall in red brick, and little shops lined the narrow road on either side. Dean pulled sloppily into the first parallel parking spot he came across. The shops were all connected together, in one long chain down the road, but the one they were in front of was two stories tall, and had dusty clothes displayed in the window. "Thanks. Just come by whenever you head back. I think the place is called The Witches Brew or something like that… Don't laugh."

"Sorry dude. It's kinda ironic."

Sam barely looked at the shops he was walking past on the sidewalk, focusing instead on the cracks in the cement below his feet and not getting the crutches lodge in any holes. He wasn't watching where he was going and suddenly the bottom of a trash can was in his line of sight. Too late he ran straight into it and the trash can slid out sending its contents into the street. He let out a startled yelp as he too, fell forward over the blue plastic trashcan. Someone, a girl from the sound of their voice was cursing and throwing insults around, most likely at him as he rolled away from the stench of rotting garbage. "Sorry. I wasn't paying attention!" he tried to justify running into whoever it was as he pulled himself carefully to his feet, ignoring the throb coming from his foot. "Here, I'll help you." He made his way around a sign posted in front of one of the shops, and began picking up a ripped black trash bag, with old stained newspapers sticking out of the top.

"_Sam?"_He heard. Blinking, Sam dumped the bag into the trash can. He whirled around to the sign, which proudly stated albeit leaning slightly that this shop was "The Witch's Brew Café and Coffee Shop". Aly threw a bag into the trash can after him. She had on an olive green apron with a notebook sticking out of the front pocket and the silhouette of a witch stirring a cauldron in the center.

"Hey Aly. So this is where you work? It's… interesting." He smiled at her.

"My grandmother's shop. That's why I said earlier that my boss wouldn't mind." The end of school that day sort of felt like forever ago, but was in fact not 3 or 4 hours earlier that day. "I was just coming to hang out and maybe get some homework done. Sorry, I wasn't…"

"Paying attention?" he looked over the trash can at her, throwing another ripped and spilling black bag in. She had an amused smirk spreading on her face, "I can see that."

After they finished piling everything back in the trash can, Aly dusted her hands on her apron, then grimaced, "I got to wash this thing later."

Sam laughed, "So what do we do with this thing now?"

"Um... I was just going to leave it here when you showed up. It's not good for business probably, but then again this location is a horrible place for business. We don't get many costumers." She smiled, "Which makes it the ideal place to study I guess. Come on, we'll just leave it here and drag it around back later." She led the way back to the glass door. It jingled when she opened it, and held it so Sam could maneuver over the door frame.

"How long do you have to use those?"

"The crutches? I think a couple of weeks or so. I wasn't really paying much attention when they told me." He shrugged.

"I'll go get my grandmother. She wants to meet you. Just pick any where you want to sit." He frowned at the grandmother comment. Did Aly tell her about him or something? Before he could ask she was already striding into the back room, so instead Sam threw his back pack and crutches into a booth and sat. The little café, coffee shop was big enough. He couldn't imagine why more people didn't come around. There were windows in the back and front that let in enough sunlight, and couches and plenty of tables and chairs. It looked very comfortable. The coffee machines were shiny and clean, and baskets of what looked like herbs or vines of some sort hung from the ceiling.

Sam began pulling out his math text book. They had switched schools, but now he was smack in the middle of assignments he wasn't familiar with. He figured catching up as much as possible would give him a better chance.

The door to the storage room suddenly swung open and he got a quick glimpse of stares, before it was swinging shut again, and Aly came flying back in.

"She's coming down now." Aly smiled sliding into the booth on the other side. Sam nodded then pointed to the door, "Does that lead to upstairs?"

"Oh yeah. After grandpa died, Granny insisted on moving up there. It's like a little apartment. They had, have a big house down the road a ways, but she said without Gramps it's too quiet, and when there are customers she likes the company."

Just then the door opened and the owner of Witch's Brew came hobbling in. She smiled shakily at Sam and nudged her granddaughter over to sit across from him too, "Sam Winchester I presume?" she held out a wrinkled hand and shook Sam's hand, "I've heard a lot about you."

Aly gave her grandmother an incredulous look and Sam coughed trying to cover the awkwardness.

"Not just from you, child." She said exasperated at her granddaughter, "Let me rephrase... I've heard a lot about Winchester." Sam's head snapped up.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked.

"Well I don't know a lot. You had to have wondered about the shop name. I'm something of a witch. I hear things… hunter." She didn't sound threatening, only smiled. Sam stared at her not knowing what to think. If it were his dad in this position he would be threatening, and demanding everything she used be burned, but Sam couldn't believe this kind old lady would do anything dark.

"Don't freak out honey." She said, "I just use spells for healing properties and only little things. I sell salves and things and in my younger years I was something of a hunter myself. Not like you traveling nomads and nothing like the rumored John Winchester, but the occasional town ghost infestation I would take care of. Alyssa, do close your mouth before you catch something."

"Anyway. I had a feeling it wasn't some animal out there doing all the killing, so whatever you did to stop it, Thank you for saving my granddaughter. She keeps me from going crazy here all alone." She hugged Aly to her side, and smiled again. "I'll leave you kids alone now. I just wanted to say hello."

Sam finally managed to say something,"It was nice to meet you. I won't say anything about the witch craft or anything." He felt he had to assure someone that John Winchester would be blazing the place down.

"Oh don't worry about that, but thank you anyway."

After the door closed they chatted a bit but then got to work on homework and in the companionable quiet didn't notice how late it got. When Aly glanced up and noticed the wall clock, she gasped, "Crap! I was supposed to be home 45 minutes ago! It's almost 9 o clock!" She started throwing her homework in her bag, and tossing the apron onto the counter. Sam put everything away, grabbing his crutches when she whirled around, "The garbage. Can you help me steer it around back real quick!"

"Yea, sure." They hurried outside, and Sam dropped his back pack next to the entrance to come back for, "Do you have a phone I could use?" he asked her, "my brother should be coming back soon. I'm surprised he didn't show up sooner actually."

"Here." She pulled a cell phone from her back pocket after they pulled the trashcan back onto the sidewalk, now refilled with its original load. They were walking it around to the back of the small cottage like coffee shop, Sam steadying the back end while she wheeled it through a narrow patch of grass. The sunlight had long since been extinguished, behind the surrounding trees and down town buildings and shops. Sam was quickly and messily typing out a text to his brother with his left hand while steering the trash can with the other, and Aly was partly twisted around to watch where she was going, when something hard hit Sam in the head. He didn't register the hit, until after the flash of white left his vision to be replaced with nausea inducing black dots and he found himself slumped on the ground.

He looked around confused, holding a hand to his throbbing head. The phone was lying broken a small ways away, and someone was yelling or screaming. A warm liquid was dripping onto his ear, and sliding down his left temple. It took him a while to realize it was blood from his head. The back of the coffee shop was a blur, but he could tell it was just a lot of concrete and white paint lines. Two cars were parked in the makeshift parking lot. He noticed with a groan the trash once again spilled out over the ground, many of the black bags now ripped straight open sending their contents out like a punctured stomach. He looked up farther and was suddenly much more alert than he was five seconds ago.

The yelling was from Aly. There were three men and a dark haired woman standing around her, one of the guys had her pinned to him with her arms behind her back. "Let her go!" Sam croaked, staggering to his feet. It was a pathetic attempt to look threatening as he stumbled into the café wall. They laughed and Sam bristled at that. He was a hunter for crying out loud. _A lousy one, _a small nagging voice in the back of his head whispered, _If dad has anything to say about it. _Sam suddenly felt foolish for not bringing his own phone or some kind of weapon. He forced himself upright, "Seriously. I mean it! Let go of her." He took a step forward warningly. Sam could fight at least. He tried to ignore the laughter this produced.

"What are you going to do about it?" the dark haired woman asked stepping forward. When she was close enough to Sam that he could see her clearly, the whites of her eyes and the dark brown irises disappeared, flooding with black. They were demons.


	16. Chapter 16

CH. 16

Dean pulled up to the curb outside the Witches Brew. He'd been worried when the library started closing down and Sam had still not called. It was pitch dark out, and very little moon to light the night. There was one street lamp and the lights were on above the coffee shop, but little else to show the place was inhabited by humans. Turning off the engine, and flipping his keys into his hand, Dean eased out of the driver's seat, the other hand resting cautiously over his chest. Sitting in the hard chair all night, had made him feel worse than before, and it was about time for more pain killers. Sam was probably due for more pills right about now as well. Dean would have laughed remembering his klutz of a brother trip over a trash can as Dean drove off, but he was nervous. Something didn't feel right. His kid brother hadn't answered the phone the couple of times he'd called before giving up. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he swung the car door shut. He glanced around, before grimacing and hurrying over to the front entrance of the shop. He stopped short at the all black backpack with a duck taped strap sitting forlornly slumped on the front step. Sam's backpack. He looked around again, picking the bag up and slinging it over one shoulder. "Damn it, Sam." he muttered under his breath, hoping to god his brother had only forgotten to charge his phone, or was ignoring him in favor of "talking" with his girlfriend.

The door swung open nearly a whole minute after he'd knocked on the door, closed sign hanging in the window. An elderly woman stood there, holding an apron with the Witch's brew logo. She smiled at him, despite it being dark and the shop closed, "How can I help you?" she asked him pleasantly.

"Yeah, I'm looking for Sam." he said, glancing over her shoulder.

"Oh Dean Winchester?"

"Yeah," Dean said, impatient.

"They just took the garbage around the corner."

"Thanks." and Dean left abruptly. There was a gate at the end of the shopping strip, he assumed led to the dumpster. It was opened and he thought nothing of it as he walked through, still carrying Sam's backpack. There was a harsh scream, quickly muffled, and then yelling coming from behind the Witch's brew. Dean dropped the bag and ran through the over grown holly bushes along the building, desperately yanking the large hunting knife from his jeans. Deciding to be cautious, and clamping down on the nerve-wracking worry coursing through him, he stopped just out of sight, leaning against the brick wall, squished between it and a bush.

Demons. A bunch of demons. There was one restraining Aly, and three standing over Sam, who had blood gushing from a painful looking gouge on his forehead. There was nothing the knife he had could do here. He kept it ready anyways; it was better than nothing. What was going on? As Sam yelled insults and demands at the smirking bitch who seemed to be leading the group, Dean silently got his cell phone from his pocket. He clicked 1, and waited. On the other end he could hear his dad moving things around, paper it sounded like, before answering in gruff impatience, "Where the hell are you? You've been gone for hours."

"Shh." Dean whispered so quietly he wasn't sure if John could even hear him, "Demons. Witch's Brew."

"What?" John said, "Dean what are you talking about?"

Wanting to strangle his father, and thinking that they really needed a short code for these sorts of things, he took a not so calming breath, and tried again, "There. are. demons..."

That was all he got out, as suddenly the dark haired woman's meat suit stiffened, and black eyes were suddenly training on his hideout. The bald guy a little behind her, noticed as well, because the next thing Dean knew he was being bodily flung from the bushes, and pinned against the fence, a nail digging into his lower back.

"Well well well. What do we have here? Dean Winchester." The lead demon sauntered over, throwing curving hips out of socket in an effort to use the bodies looks to intimidate. Sam had gone quiet now, his attention on Aly, as the leader's attention was no longer on him. He still had the two henchman on him though. They laughed at his obvious efforts to form a plan.

"What do you want, you demon bitch," Dean snarled.

"Ooh. Someone's got some bark." she smiled leaning in as if about to divulge a secret, "But what about bite? Huh, Dean?"

Dean rolled his eyes, looking wholly unimpressed. It made her mad. Reaching a hand out an inch from his chest she closed it into a fist. Dean grunted, gritting his teeth as a sudden crushing pressure built up in his ribcage. An ounce more of whatever force she was wielding and ribs would break. He felt a stitch tear in his chest and yelled out.

"Stop!" Sam yelled behind them.

"We are going to take Sammy now. You aren't going to stop us. It's not like you could anyway." She laughed at his helplessness, "All you have on you is that puny knife, and you know as well as I do that all the damage it will do is only to the human I'm wearing. I probably wouldn't even try to stop you." She glanced over her shoulder, "Oh and I think we'll take the girl. There is obviously something there we can use to our advantage. Leverage if you will." She let go, and Dean gasped in a breath, coughing. He could feel blood seeping though his shirt already. She turned on a heel, and stalked back to her henchman, "Let's go." And with that they were gone, disappearing into black smoke. Dean had never seen them do that before, not with humans riding with them. The moment the smoke cleared out he collapsed to the ground, holding his ribs. He had no time to recuperate though. They had Sam. Stumbling to his feet he lumbered towards where his phone lay abandoned, laboriously picking it up from the floor. The call ended so John probably hung up. He called him back as he exited through the gate. His dad answered as soon as he came around the corner and nearly ran into the store owner. He stood there in shock for a moment staring back at her somber expression.

"Dean!" John was frantic, "Dean where are you? Answer me!"

Dean shook himself back into focus, "They have Sam, dad." he said trying to keep the lump in his throat down. He felt like crying, but that wouldn't help anyone right now.

"The demons?"

"Yeah. About five or six of them. They have Sam and that girl we rescued last week."

"Where are you?"

"Outside The Witch's Brew. It's a coffee shop on Lamar road. But dad they're gone. I think it would be better if you stay there. I'll meet you at home, and then we can come up with some sort of plan." It felt hopeless. What plan could they come up with? "Maybe you should call Bobby and see if he can help."

Dean hung up.

"Demon's have my Aly?" the elderly woman whispered, one hand held up to her mouth, "Why?"

Dean stared at her is shock once more. This old woman knew about Demons?

"I'm sorry. I'm her grandmother." she then lifted her chin slightly, and with more authority said, "And I am a witch. And before you start freaking out. I only do light stuff. I only use it to help out in the community. I've never killed or brought anyone back from the dead. But I believe I could help you anyway, if John Winchester doesn't kill me before seeing reason."

Dean gave a surprised laugh, "Yeah good luck with that. He likes to jump the gun. Aly was with Sam, and they came for him. She was just there and they must have seen some bond. Sam wouldn't let her die, so he'd have to agree to their terms in order to save her. That sort of thing.. I think. I got to go."

He was turning to head back to his car, when she suddenly grabbed his arm. "Will you wait for a second. I'm coming with you." There was no time to argue, but Dean still attempted to. In the end he sat waiting in the Impala, while she gathered some assorted ingredients and tools of the supernatural type. God, his dad was going to kill her first and ask questions later.

She came back in less than five minutes, and got into the passengers' side holding a large quilting bag. Dean stared at it dubiously as he pulled out of the parking spot and sped off in the direction of their motel.


End file.
